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What was the matter with her? she asked herself nervously, picking up her folder and bag. She was reacting like a teenager on her first date. He had only touched her, for God’s sake. That was exactly the trouble, she admitted wryly. For some reason he only needed to touch her. She hoped to God he never discovered how susceptible she was to him. But there was no reason why he should as long as she kept her cool and didn’t allow him to panic her into anything she could not get out of.
‘Blushing?’ he asked dulcetly as they stepped out into the crisp autumn afternoon. ‘I didn’t know girls still could.’
‘It’s the wind,’ Storm prevaricated—obviously quite ineffectually, if the look he gave her as he unlocked the car was anything to go by.
Wyechester was not without its own very individual appeal, and today as they drove through the narrow streets, Storm was seeing it with fresh eyes. One or two Tudor buildings lingered on, rubbing shoulders with their more grandiose Georgian brethren. What was now the Town Hall and Council Offices had once been the local manor house and its gardens had been preserved for the use of the public. A modern health centre and library complex had been erected to the rear of the Queen Anne house, in such a manner that they did not detract from the charm of the original building.
Jago’s car was as luxuriously impressive from the inside as it was from the outside. Storm had never travelled in such an expensive vehicle before, if one did not count the lift he had given her the other evening, and then she had been too preoccupied with other matters to pay much attention to her surroundings. Now as she forced herself to relax she examined the interior of the Ferrari, noticing the plushy comfort of the leather seat and the unobtrusive signs of luxury all round her.
Pete’s voice floated out of the stereo radio—she had forgotten it was his turn to D.J. the lunch-time pop session, and she lay back, closing her eyes and listening to the music.
‘Calder’s got the right touch,’ Jago commented, leaning forward to adjust the volume slightly, ‘and he’s ambitious—he should go far. What did David want?’
The question caught her off guard, bringing her upright, two spots of colour burning in her cheeks.
‘Nothing that has anything to do with you,’ she said with brittle emphasis, unprepared for the speed with which he stopped the car, swearing savagely as he pulled off the road and turned to face her.
‘Don’t try to tell me he rang up to whisper sweet nothings to you,’ he said savagely, ‘because I just won’t believe you. Winters hasn’t got the slightest conception of what it takes to turn a woman like you on, has he, Storm?’ In fact I’m willing to bet that’s something no man has ever done.’
There was a strange, tight pain deep inside her, as though Jago was invading the deepest recesses of her privacy, bringing to the light of day things she’d thought safely hidden from everyone, including herself.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she began, but his hands cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her skin with a sensual expertise that sent shivers of awareness coursing through her.
‘Don’t lie to me, Storm,’ he murmured. ‘I was right wasn’t I? No man has ever aroused you, least of all David.’
‘I’m not frigid, if that’s what you’re trying to say,’ Storm prevaricated, trembling under the intensity of his regard. They were on a deserted stretch of country road, and she was aware of him in a way that she had never been aware of anyone before. It wasn’t just him she feared, she acknowledged with painful honesty, it was herself as well. She might despise him. She might not want the desire he said he felt for her, but she was pulsatingly aware of it.
‘No? Then let’s prove it, shall we?’ he drawled, his arms going round her, holding her captive as his lips feathered a teasing caress against hers.
She wanted to run and yet she wanted to stay. She was completely powerless to withstand his practised arousal, his slow, determined assault upon her senses, and the kisses that took her far, far beyond anything she’d known with anyone else.
‘Definitely not frigid,’ Jago agreed, lifting his mouth from hers. ‘But inexperienced, and holding back…’
‘Of course I’m holding back, as you put it,’ Storm said shakily, trying to fight against what he was doing to her. ‘I’m in love with David, or have you forgotten?’
‘Hadn’t you?’ Jago asked succinctly, his hand closing over hers as she reached frantically for the door handle. ‘I’ve locked it,’ he told her dryly when she turned a panic-stricken face towards him. ‘This is the last time you fling David Winters in my face, Storm. Before I’ve finished with you, you’re going to forget he ever existed.’
‘Let me out of here!’ she sobbed, her fists pounding the inflexible wall of his chest, but he caught her hands with expert ease, his eyes smoky grey as he sneered coldly:
’Your first mistake, Storm. Never start a fight on the opposition’s home ground.’
‘Fight?’ She stared at him in incredulity. ‘I don’t want to fight…’
‘Oh, but you do,’ he said softly, ‘otherwise you’d never have reminded me of David. Or was it yourself you were trying to remind? Was that it, Storm? Were you holding David up in front of you like a shield?’
He was far too close to the truth, Storm admitted shakily.
‘I love David,’ she reiterated childishly, and was instantly punished for her folly as his mouth closed over hers, his hands exploring her body with ruthless economy, shattering all her preconceived ideas of how she would react in such circumstances, as he moulded her hips against the hardness of his thighs, and then slid his hands upwards, cupping her breasts, his fingers probing the soft flesh as he murmured unkindly, ‘No bra? Now why was that, I wonder? Were you hoping for something like this?’
She went rigid, her eyes flaming with anger.
‘How dare you!’ she hissed. ‘I loathe having you touch me. You make me sick, you…’
Her words were cut short, as his mouth ground her lips back against her teeth until she could taste the faint saltiness of her own blood, the angry raking of her fingernails against his shoulders ignored, as his mouth moved down over her throat, leaving her powerless to stop his unhurried invasion of her senses, the explosive feel of his mouth on her skin, awakening her to raw desire. She gasped, shuddering as his teeth tugged at the buttons on her blouse, his lips suddenly persuasive as they caressed her breast.
Heat flooded through her. No one had ever touched her like this before, and she had never imagined that she could feel this… this… She moaned, unable to deny her arousal, pressing instinctively against him as his mouth moved against her skin, his tongue circling her nipple, the tormenting caress starting an ache deep inside her that obliterated all rational thought. She was beyond reason, beyond anything but what his hands and mouth were doing to her, and when his mouth returned to hers her lips parted for him on a husky groan, allowing him whatever licence he desired. She was lying underneath him, his thighs like steel where they crushed her down into the supple leather, but she didn’t care.
Only when Jago tugged impatiently at his tie, unfastening his shirt so that she could feel the harshness of his body hair against her breasts, did Storm realise what was happening. She struggled to sit up, pushing ineffectually at his chest, shaking with guilt and terror. How could she have allowed him to touch her like that, to… She shuddered, closing her eyes and trying to pull her blouse round her.
