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There was a non-responsive moment of shock.
Then her tongue was tangling with his in a fierce duel for possession, no holding back, no sharp teeth trying to beat him into retreat. She assaulted his mouth with as much pumped up passion as he assaulted hers, and the excitement of it was so intense, Quin’s entire body was seized with the need to drive it further.
Her arms had wound around his neck, hands thrust aggressively into his hair to enforce her kiss. It was easy to lower his hold on her, using the leverage of her lushly cushioned bottom to lift her up enough for him to stride to the bed and move them both onto it. Her legs sprawled apart invitingly as he came down on top of her. An exhilarating rush of adrenaline surged through him at the obvious proof that she wanted him as urgently as he wanted her.
Swiftly positioning himself, feeling her moist heat, knowing she was ready, her flesh quivering, craving what he craved, Quin was on the point of plunging forward when she suddenly slammed her hands against his shoulders and cried, “No! No! Wait!”
“What for?” he snapped, every taut nerve and muscle protesting the delay, his mind angrily whirling over the thought of her playing some sadistic, teasing game with him.
“You have to use protection, Quin,” she said forcefully, her breasts heaving against his chest, her knees up, feet planted to give her pushing strength if she had to use it.
“You’ve got some infectious problem?” His voice was harsh with frustration. Apart from which, he didn’t believe that a woman as fastidious as Nicole would have taken any health risk with sex.
“How do I know you haven’t got one?” she retaliated. “Don’t tell me you’ve been celibate for the past five years.”
“No, but I’m not stupid, Nicole.”
“I want you to use a condom,” she pressed aggressively.
“That’s not as pleasurable for you or me.”
“Tough!” Her eyes savagely mocked his argument. “Me getting pregnant is not part of our deal.”
“Pregnant? You’re worried about getting pregnant?”
“It happens,” she said fiercely.
He frowned over the sharpness of her concern. It seemed unreasonable, given the effectiveness of modern means of contraception.
Perhaps realising it needed some credible explanation, she blurted out, “I’m not on the pill, Quin. By insisting on having me with you tonight, you didn’t give me time to get myself safely protected.”
His mind swiftly processed what she was saying. “So you haven’t been sexually active for some time…months…years?”
Five years? he wondered, recalling her crack about the possible length of his celibacy.
“That’s none of your business.” Again her eyes were savagely mocking as she added, “The point is, you don’t want a child out of this any more than I do. Such a responsibility would interfere far too much with your life. Though, of course, you could just turn your back on it, leaving me to deal with the consequences of our…pleasure.”
Was that a bitter tone in her voice?
Quin forgot about the enforced pause to their current pleasure, his mind totally engaged with Nicole’s response to him on other levels. “I’ve never shirked responsibility,” he stated, ironically conscious of the family debt he’d carried and eventually paid out. “Nor did I turn my back on you, Nicole. It was you who walked away.”
“After you shut about a million doors in my face,” she said derisively. “Only the bedroom door was always open. But let’s not go down that road, Quin. We’re dealing with now and I don’t want any mementoes—butterflies or babies—of this time together. I brought a packet of condoms in case you didn’t have a ready supply. It’s in my bag.”
The raging desire was gone. The act of getting up and doing the whole condom thing was a passion killer anyway, Quin told himself, moving to lie beside Nicole. The whole night stretched ahead of them. There was no need for any haste in satisfying the hunger for a deeply sexual connection with her. Other intimacies also had appeal.
“Shall I get the packet?” she asked, turning towards him and propping herself up on her elbow.
“Sure! Might as well be prepared for when I get another erection,” he drawled sardonically.
She glanced down and winced at the limp evidence of doused arousal. “Sorry, Quin. I should have spoken before. I didn’t deliberately hold back on it.”
He cocked a challenging eyebrow. “Caught up in other things?”
Her lips compressed. No admission that she’d wanted him. But she had. No doubt about that in Quin’s mind. The triumphant knowledge of it simmered in his eyes as he said, “I put your bag in the ensuite bathroom.” He waved to a door beyond the bedside table closest to where he lay. “It’s through there.”
It meant she had to clamber over him or get up on her side and round the bed, passing directly by the blue butterfly which he’d cunningly displayed with the only light switched on in the room. He watched her as she took the latter action. Her naked body was briefly silhouetted against the spotlight as she headed for the bathroom, her gaze rigidly fixed on the door, not so much as a glance at the butterfly.
Her lovely full breasts seemed heavier, not quite as perky as he remembered. A more mature figure five years down the track, he thought, but certainly no less sexy. To his mind, her body was still the most beautifully feminine he’d ever seen; curves where there should be curves, flowing in perfect harmony, her bones softly fleshed, long shapely legs.
