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She shook her head. She had no wish to remain with Scott in the intimacy of the library, although it wasn’t until she had reached her own room that she stopped to question her fear. He had made it more than clear since their marriage that what had happened between them had been an aberration, springing perhaps, she was inclined to think, from his fierce need to assuage the pain she had once caused him. Now that he knew the truth; that Simon was his child and why she had left him, that need had gone, and with it the fierce desire she had sensed in him the last time they made love.
She had undressed and was just brushing her hair when the communicating door opened. She saw Scott’s reflection in her mirror, her eyes widening as she took in the ruffled hair and open shirt. He had discarded his jacket, and looked very dangerous standing in the doorway, propped up against the frame.
‘Scott?’
‘Don’t worry, I haven’t come to claim my husbandly privileges,’ he said sardonically. ‘It’s this damned tension. Unless I get rid of it, I’m going to wake up with cramped muscles tomorrow.’ He saw her bewilderment and said dryly. ‘I was hoping I might be able to persuade you to massage the back of my neck for me. I can’t reach it.…’
She wanted to refuse. Her mouth had gone dry with apprehension, and as though he read her mind Scott said cynically, ‘I’m not asking you to make love to me, Philippa, so you needn’t look at me like that.’
‘I… I.…’ Her eyes followed his progress to her bed, where he pulled off his shirt, dropping it on the floor, and then lying face downwards on it, obviously taking her co-operation for granted. She wanted to refuse, but if she did what excuse could she give him? That she was frightened to touch him because she loved him? His request was a perfectly reasonable one, in his eyes at least.
‘Turn off the light will you,’ he asked as he heard her approach, ‘it hurts my eyes.’
She snapped it off, leaving the room bathed only in the glow from the lamp in Scott’s room and sat down beside him, tentatively touching the; back of his neck. The muscles were rigid beneath her fingers, his skin dry. The body cream she used on her skin was on the bedside table and she opened it, smoothing some on to his nape, suppressing a slight smile as its scent was released, wondering how Scott would feel about wearing her perfume, but it did the trick, softening the tense skin so that she was able to stroke the bunched muscles with her fingertips gradually becoming less aware of his maleness and more concerned with her task. Slowly she felt the tension seep out, and her hands were aching when she bent forward and asked, softly, ‘Any better?’
Scott’s head rested on his forearms; and he turned it towards her, his eyes dark and unfathomable in the half light. ‘Mmm. Philippa, why do you hate touching me so much?’
His question caught her off guard and she bent to put the top back on her body lotion, the fair curtain of her hair hiding her expression from him. ‘I.…’
‘Is it because you think you might respond to me the way you did the night before you.…’
‘No.’ The denial seemed to burst from her throat her muscles tensing. ‘I don’t want to talk about it, Scott.’
‘I agree,’ he said softly, ‘talking would be a waste of time, especially when there are other ways of communicating.’ He turned over before she could move, pulling her down on to the bed beside him, silencing her protests with his mouth, slowly releasing her throbbing lips to run his tongue lightly over their full contours. ‘Scott, please don’t do this.’
His thumb followed the line of his tongue, making it impossible for her to think, never mind object, his teeth tasting the satiny skin just inside her lower lip, sending hot waves of pleasure flooding through her body.
‘Scott, please,’ she moaned again, ‘Why are you doing this…?’ She twisted her head desperately, seeking to avoid the persuasion of his mouth, but it moved capriciously over her skin, seeking and finding the vulnerable curve of her ear, tasting the warm flesh of her throat, his voice muffled against her skin as he said softly, ‘Simon should have a sister, or a brother, don’t you agree.…’
‘Scott, no!’
‘Philippa, yes!’ His mouth was no longer teasing, but urgent as it covered hers, plunging her deep into volcanic pleasure, his tongue sliding past the barrier of her teeth, making her forget that she had vowed this would never happen again. Her pulses thudded out their undeniable response to his touch, her body moving against him hungrily defying all her dictates that it should not, her small gasp of pleasure when he pushed aside the thin covering of her robe and found the rounded warmth of her breast, going unchecked.
He made love to her with a finesse that bordered on tenderness, not allowing her to fight her response, overwhelming her with the stroke of his hands and lips until she was clinging mindlessly to him, raking her nails lightly across the taut flesh of his stomach in a torment of need as he teased the pink crests of her breasts. His every touch seemed to incite her to abandon herself completely to him, losing herself in sensations she had tried to banish, stopping only when he felt the inciting movement of her hips against his, his arousal tormentingly obvious, so much so that she couldn’t understand at first why he was pushing her away.
‘I thought you didn’t want me?’
What did he want from her? Total debasement? ‘I want you.’ She made the admission dully, adding achingly, ‘Please, Scott, I want you.’ She closed her eyes, feeling the hot, scalding tears burning against her lids as she compounded her own humiliation.
‘Why? Why do you want me, Philippa?’ His hand cupped her breasts, his thumb stroking lazily against her nipple until she was writhing helplessly in his arms, shuddering with sexual tension, mindless with the ache he was deliberately arousing, helpless to deny her love for him.
‘Is it because you still love me?’
‘No,’ she lied, twisting desperately away from him, but he wouldn’t let her go. ‘You do,’ he insisted thickly, his mouth moving hotly over her skin. ‘You love me, Philippa, say it… tell me.…’ His hand cupped her breast, his mouth hotly sweet as it closed over it, his control suddenly breaking as he felt her response. ‘Tell me you love me. Say it, say it,’ he commanded between the caresses and kisses that burned her skin. ‘Say it… Philippa, say it.…’ She wanted to deny it, but suddenly she knew she couldn’t, and the words fell from her tongue in a husky litany that brought a torrent of heated passion flooding through her body, sensitising every nerve ending, every centimetre of skin so that Scott’s fevered possession of her body transcended anything she had known before, her response tearing a hoarse cry of pleasure from his throat as their bodies moved feverishly together, finding their own method of communication, the words Scott had wanted to hear filling the room as she
cried them out in soft ecstasy against his skin.
* * *
‘Philippa.’ She didn’t want to open her eyes, but she knew that Scott knew she was awake. The room was in darkness. While she had slept Scott had gone into his own room and switched off the light, but why had he come back to hers, and moreover why was he in bed with her?
‘Why did you pretend you didn’t love me any longer?’
‘I don’t.’
‘You just said you did,’ he reminded her softly.
‘How could I love a man who wants to hurt me the way you do?’ she cried out painfully. ‘The Scott I loved would never.…’ She swallowed hard, and said, ‘I could understand that you were bitter because you thought I’d lied and cheated, but you seemed to hate me so violently that I thought it was hopeless trying to tell you the truth.’ A deep shudder trembled through her body and she tensed as Scott drew her to him, reacting immediately to the warmth of his skin against hers and the soft brush of his fingers over her body.
