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‘Oh, but we must,’ he negated harshly, compelled by something far stronger than reason or the sudden frantic clamour of his conscience. ‘Because I think I’m going to go crazy unless we do.’
Some instinct told her to pull away from him but she couldn’t. Because by then it was too late. By then he was moulding her even closer, so that she could feel the contours of his hard body against hers. Cupping her face between his hands, he stared down at her—his face a dark mask, looking for all the world like a man who had just seen a tortured image of his own future.
And then—just like all her forbidden fantasies—Jack Marchant bent his head and began to kiss her.
CHAPTER FIVE
JACK’S lips crushed down on Ashley’s, his kiss deep and passionate as his tongue probed deep inside her mouth. He groaned as he kissed her, making a sound of such helpless pleasure that Ashley made an answering moan of her own. She felt her hands grope blindly for his shoulders—as if she might slide to the ground without his support.
Her blood sang and her heart pounded. How shockingly intimate that felt. Jack’s tongue inside her mouth. Jack pressing her against his body. Jack pressing his hips into hers with blatant desire. Her fingers bit into his heavy coat as she clutched onto him—and now his kiss became even more fervent.
He plundered her mouth without restraint, like a man who had tasted food after a long period of starvation. His hands moved to her hair, his fingers impatiently weaving through the carefully positioned pins, so that several strands began to tumble down around her face. She could feel the mad quickening of her heart and the strange, honeyed sensation which was making her body seem hot and tender and tight and restless—all at the same time. Like a coiled spring which was slowly beginning to unfurl.
He pulled her even nearer, so that the physique she had secretly admired from afar was now moulded firmly against her. And despite the clothing he wore she was acutely aware of his rampant masculinity—of the growing need at the very cradle of his body. It should have been daunting, and on one level it was—and yet on another it felt as if her entire life had been spent waiting for this moment.
‘Ashley!’ He whispered into her mouth and she gave an instinctive little mew of pleasure in response. She could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with hers and smell his masculine scent invading her nostrils.
‘J-Jack,’ she breathed—and then said it again, as if to reassure herself that she wasn’t dreaming. ‘Jack.’
‘Yes,’ he said unsteadily. ‘Yes.’
Reaching down, he began to unbutton her coat, slipping his hand inside to cup one breast over her sweater, and Ashley jerked with shock and pleasure at the unexpected intimacy. Beneath the cheap wool, she felt her flesh swell and become acutely sensitive beneath his seeking fingers. And then he moved his hand, sliding it underneath the sweater to alight on her bra itself.
His fingers had now encountered a painfully tight nipple and were rubbing at it deliciously through the lace of her bra and Ashley found her senses clamouring to have him remove the obstruction. To have his whole hand cup the exquisitely aching mound. She could feel her nipple pushing painfully against the lace—as if her bra had suddenly become several sizes too small.
‘Jack,’ she moaned.
‘You like that, don’t you?’ he whispered.
‘Oh, yes. Yes.’ She’d never felt like this before—never had a man touch her like this before. For several seconds she allowed the strange, sweet sensation to wash over her and felt the rush of desire which was spiralling up inside her. She registered her sudden urgent need for something more and allowed herself to wriggle restlessly in his arms.
‘Please,’ she heard herself whisper, as if someone had planted the word inside her mouth. ‘Please keep doing that.’
‘My pleasure,’ he ground out.
No. It was her pleasure. Hers. She’d never thought that her body could feel like this. As if it were on fire—and only Jack could extinguish that fire. She met the urgent thrust of his hips with an instinctive one of her own—until reality hit her like a ton of bricks dropped from a great height and smashed into her thoughts.
She was standing on a bleak and barren moor, letting her boss make love to her!
Her breath coming in ragged little gasps, she tore herself out of his arms and stared up at his face—where another shock awaited her. For this was Jack Marchant as she had never seen him before, his features all dark and saturnine—looking like the devil himself. This was no longer her proud and aristocratic boss, she realised, but a sexually aroused stranger she didn’t really recognise.
She pulled her sweater down over her aching breasts. ‘What… what do you think you’re doing?’ she stumbled.
With an effort he sucked air back into his lungs and an unbearable frustration coated his words with bitterness. ‘Oh, come on—Ashley. A little less of the outraged innocence,’ he bit out. ‘That kiss has been weeks in the making—you know that and I know that. And please don’t pretend you didn’t want it as much as I did. It’s bad enough to be thwarted in a situation like this—but hypocrisy would make it simply intolerable.’
Shame washed over her. Ashley opened her mouth to protest—to fling his unjust accusations back at him—but how could she do that, when deep down she knew that he spoke nothing but the truth? This had been weeks in the making—if she was honest enough to admit to all the little glances and side-glances they’d exchanged. That feeling of excitement and frustration whenever he was around. And she couldn’t deny that she had wanted it—maybe she was just taken aback by how much he seemed to want her, too.
She was confused and bewildered, and Ashley’s instinct to escape overrode everything. Her cheeks burning with shame, she turned her back on him and ran—her footsteps slipping and sliding in the soft mud as she gathered pace.
‘Ashley!’
She heard his angry roar from behind her but she paid it no attention and carried on running, her breath coming in hot, painful gasps as she fled towards the house.
Once inside, she pulled off her muddy shoes and rushed upstairs to her room, staring at herself in the mirror in disbelief as she saw her unbuttoned coat and the rumpled sweater and remembered Jack’s hand straying inside it and touching her there.
Briefly, she closed her eyes and swallowed as she recalled that brief burst of pleasure as his fingers had closed over her breast. And that disbelieving sense of joy as he had kissed her so passionately.
