Part 3 (1/2)
nicola opened her eyes and stared anxiously around the unfamiliar bedroom.
It was decorated in shades of grey and white, with a plain Roman blind at the window. The bed she was in was large, the bedding white and crisp, the duvet grey and white striped. She knew immediately that this was not a woman's bedroom, and panic shot through her; she struggled to sit up and then gasped in fresh shock as she realised that all she was wearing was her briefs.
She had no idea where she was or why. The last thing she could remember was being at Jonathon's father's birthday party. She had been dancing with someone. Someone. Her body stiffened, frantic stabs of enlightening memory piercing the grey fog that covered the previous evening's events.
She remembered drinking the champagne c.o.c.ktails, seeing Jonathon with Susie. seeing him-She groaned out loud and then shuddered. What on earth had she done?
What had he, the strange man she had left the party with, done?
She shuddered again. She wasn't that naive.
There could have been only one reason she was here in his bed this morning. The facts were selfevident.
There was a terrible wrench of nausea in the pit of her stomach, an ache in her head that made her feel as though someone had kicked it; and yet surprisingly there was nothing else--no unfamiliar aches, no real awareness that last night she had crossed the final frontier that separated the child from the woman . no memories of the man who had been her lover, other than those she had of the events preceding their departure from the party.
As she sat tensely in the middle of the large bed, trying to overcome both her physical nausea and her mental and emotional self-disgust, the bedroom door suddenly opened.
In the daylight he seemed even larger than she remembered. He had obviously just had a shower, because his hair was slicked back and still wet, his skin still showing faint traces of moisture. He had a towel wrapped around his hips. His body was hard and muscular, a shockingly masculine dark arrowing of hair bisecting his torso.
He was, she saw, carrying a mug of something hot, but as soon as he approached the bed she instinctively shrank back from him, clutching at the bedclothes and watching him with terrified eyes.
”So you're awake... Just as well since I have to leave in half an hour. I'll drop you off on my way to the airport.
I've brought you some tea. If you want any aspirin, there are some in the bathroom cabinet. ”
He was so matter of fact, so casual. She could feel her own face starting to burn as he sat down on the edge of the bed and it depressed beneath his weight.
She could smell the sharp lemon freshness of his soap, see the smooth sheen of his jaw where he had just shaved. His skin looked firm and tanned, the sight of his body making her tremble and then shudder as she tried not to think about last night, about how he must have-”If you want to be sick...”
She shook her head, biting her bottom lip in an agony of self-mortification. He was so obviously used to this sort of thing, while she. There was a mirror on the wall opposite the bed. She caught sight of their reflections in it. No wonder he had thought she might be going to be sick, her face looked so pale, an unpleasant shade of greeny-white. She frowned, suddenly realising something, her fingers touching her bare face.
As though he realised what she was thinking, he told her drily, ”I washed it off.”
She went from white to red and shuddered, all too conscious of everything else he must have done while she had been too drunk to be aware of it.
Revulsion rose up inside her, not just for herself but for him as well.
How could he. how could any man make love to a woman while she virtually had no awareness of what was going on? But then, men weren't like women. men were different, dangerous, and if she was honest with herself she had encouraged him to think--to believe. She had started to tremble. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him reaching towards her. Immediately she arched her back to avoid him, her eyes betraying her feelings.
Matt frowned. Surely the little idiot didn't actually think he had.
He wasn't sure whether to give her a good telling off or burst out laughing. Did she really honestly think. He remembered how small she had felt when he'd carded her in from the car . how trustingly she had snuggled up against him. How vulnerable she had felt when he stripped off that appalling dress and then her tights, before was.h.i.+ng her face clean of her make-up and tucking her up in his spare room. He had, in fact, treated her as matter-of factly as though she had been one of his sisters, and now she was looking at him as though he was a potential rapist.
It would have served her right if he had taken advantage of her, he decided grimly, looking at her; and, if she carried on behaving the way she had done last night, that was exactly what would happen to her.
It didn't take much intelligence to work out what had been going on.
The silly little idiot obviously had some kind of crush on Jonathon Hendry.
More fool her. Now there was a man who would have used the situation to his advantage without a thought for the consequences. He could see how terrified she was, and what she thought. He opened his mouth to rea.s.sure her, and then paused. Perhaps he ought to go on letting her think the worst. She looked so scared and shocked that, if he did, it might just be enough to shock her into reverting to what he suspected was her true character, and never behaving so foolishly again. It would in some ways be a cruel thing to do . but, if it stopped her from behaving with another man the way she had behaved with him last night, in the long run he would be doing her a favour.
And so, instead of telling her the truth, he put down the mug, and reached across the bed, his hands on her shoulders, as he held her firmly and asked, ”What's wrong? You weren't like this last night...”
He actually felt the shudder that went through her, and saw the sickness in her eyes, but he hardened his heart against his compa.s.sion and reminded himself that this was for her own good.
”I didn't disappoint you, did I?” he added, murmuring, ”I know it was your first time, but you seemed enthusiastic enough--especially later...”
Nicola couldn't silence the anguished moan bubbling in her throat.
This was awful, unbearable. far, far worse than anything she had imagined. She had no idea he would actually talk about what had happened as matter-of-factly as though it meant nothing. But then, of course, to him it did not mean anything. To him-She could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear, and she knew that if she turned her head--if she moved at all. She froze, locking every muscle in her body, willing him to let go of her and yet terrified of closing her eyes in case he moved, and-”What's wrong?”
His thumbs were stroking her skin--her bare skin, the delicate friction sending two conflicting messages to her senses. The first was one of shock and fear, the second. She s.h.i.+vered, a little unfamiliar with the s.h.i.+very tremulous sensation caused by the friction of his touch, her eyes widening in sudden betraying bewilderment as beneath the protection of the duvet she suddenly felt the tightening of her nipples. A fierce tremor seemed to run through her body from where his thumb stroked her skin to the centre of her breast.
Matt saw the anguish in her eyes and frowned.
Perhaps he was taking things a little too far. Perhaps she had already learned her lesson; and then, beneath his fingertips, he felt the tiny rash of gooseb.u.mps lifting her skin. His body reacted to it before his brain, his senses aware before his intelligence, so that as she tensed and twisted frantically against him he stopped her attempt to escape with immediate masculine subjugation, sliding one hand up to her jaw, and holding her still while he turned his head and looked down at her mouth.
He told himself later that he hadn't intended to kiss her . that he wouldn't have done so if she hadn't suddenly panicked and let go of the duvet, which he hadn't even realised she was holding, to dig her nails into his arm in an attempt to fight free of him.
The pressure of her nails he barely registered; the sight of her full, soft b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her nipples flushed with arousal and erect, he did, and to such an extent that his free hand was cupping one of them and his mouth was on hers before he even realised what he was doing.
If he hadn't already guessed at her innocence, her reaction to him now must have proved it. She went still with shock in his hands, her mouth trembling beneath his, and for the first time in his life he realised how shockingly tempting such innocence could be.
For the s.p.a.ce of a heartbeat he was over 9 whelmed by a dangerous urge to continue what he had started, to kiss her until it wasn't just her mouth that trembled, but her whole body.
To caress her until the hard, flushed points of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were pressing eagerly into his hands. were begging for the moist caress of his mouth. He felt his body grow taut with excitement and need, his muscles straining as he fought to control his s.e.xual response to her, his mind torturing him with mental images of how she would feel, how she would look, how she would sound if he were to make love to her now. to show her that there was no need for her fear . to teach her that-She was still struggling to break free of him, and automatically he used his weight to pin her to the bed, fighting to control both her and his own desire, so that he could explain to her that she had nothing to fear, that he had only wanted to teach her a lesson. A lesson which had gone badly wrong, he acknowledged ruefully, as she bunched up her hand into a fist and thumped him in the solar plexus.
Physically the blow didn't do any damage at all but, as he recoiled to avoid it, his towel came loose and slid free of his body.
He felt the shock run through her, and cursed under his breath as he saw the expression in her eyes. She was even more innocent than he'd imagined, and quite obviously had not had the benefit of growing up around brothers or male cousins, he reflected wryly. Any minute now she was probably going to start screaming 'rape', and all because he had wanted to show her how dangerous and ill-considered her behaviour the night before had been.
What he hadn't taken into account was his own reaction to her.
Ridiculous that an innocent with the clean-scrubbed face of a little girl, who was quite definitely not his type at all, should have such an intense and immediate effect on him, when he prided himself on his self-control.
But if he let her go now. Sighing to himself, he took advantage of her shock to reach for one of her hands, deliberately uncurling her fingers before lifting it and placing it on his body.
Her fingers were icy-cold, their touch almost as much a shock to him physically as what he had done was to her mentally. She tried to s.n.a.t.c.h her hand away, shock burning hot flags of colour in her cheeks.
”See what you've done to me,” he told her softly.
”Shall I cancel my flight to New York, so that we can...?”
As he let go of her hand, she s.n.a.t.c.hed it back, looking everywhere but at him, her voice thick and choked as she denied his suggestion.
He really had no intention of cancelling his flight, and was hoping that the suggestion that they might have s.e.x again would be enough to reinforce her shock and make her think once she got home that she had got off lightly.
And then, when he saw her face, he knew he had to relent and tell her the truth. She looked so sick and shocked, sitting there clutching the bedclothes around her body, her eyes huge and dark with emotion, her body trembling.
”Look,” he began, stopping as he heard the phone ring.