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‘Now?’ His hands swept down her sides and over her stockings to the knees that were wedged against his hips, and then slowly followed the same course back again.
‘Now, Miss Smith, we stay like this for the next ten hours.’
She quaked with delight and laughter at the thought. ‘But what if I want to move?’ she asked, squirming with mock innocence.
‘Why, then I suppose I’ll have to do this…’ His hands tangled in her suspenders, holding them as if they were reins, tightly controlling the movements of her lower body as he bent his head and began to make lavish love to her acutely sensitive breasts, her hips beginning a slow, rhythmic ride that long minutes afterwards sent Harriet shooting to the stars…
Later, when Harriet tried to count up how many times they’d made love, she got lost somewhere in the move between the lounge and the bedroom. Suffice it to say that when she woke in the morning next to Marcus she felt deliciously exhausted and unutterably contented.
Still in a half-waking state, she stretched, sensuously enjoying the slide of the satin sheets against her bare skin, and reached out to reassure herself that her erotic fantasy was really true. Her hand bumped against a hard hip and her groping finger brushed against a shaft of satiny steel that she was tempted
to explore.
‘Uh-uh.’ Her hand was caught and firmly placed back on her own stomach. ‘Your time is up, Miss Smith. Now etiquette requires you to pay a gracious compliment to your latest sexual conquest and make a discreet disappearance from his life.’
Harriet’s heavy eyes flew open and she found herself looking directly up into Marcus’s face. He was propped on his side on the wide, disordered bed, looking disgustingly bright and bushy-tailed for a man who had spent the night steeped in dissipation. The reports about his energy had obviously not been exaggerated. In contrast Harriet felt heavy and lethargic, her brain thick and turgid.
He watched as she slowly absorbed the impact of his words and remembered…
She began to rise in panic, holding the blue satin sheet bunched over her breasts, and he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, stilling her against the soft pillows.
‘If that’s what you want, Harriet.’
She opened her mouth and he put his warm palm over it and continued, ‘Because I think you must know by now it’s not what I want.’ His eyes darkened. ‘One night isn’t enough to be enough, is it, Harriet?’
No, she realised in despair, it wasn’t. ‘How much is enough?’ she asked warily, her words muffled by his hand.
‘How long is a piece of string?’ he murmured, removing his hand warily from her mouth, and Harriet licked her lips, finding curious reassurance in his familiar taste. ‘What do you say? Shall we take each day as it comes?’ he asked.
It sounded like a leaf from Harriet’s book of philosophy. She wasn’t so sure about it any more, but if she could control the relationship, set the rules, then why shouldn’t she share his bed again and again, letting him transport her to that wonderful other world where there was no pain, no hurt, no lasting sorrow…?
‘You mean an affair?’ she said bluntly.
‘If that’s what you want to call it,’ he said, brushing the hair back from her temples.
‘No strings?’
‘Not unless you want them.’
She wouldn’t, she told herself. No more than he.
‘And my hair stays blonde,’ she said fiercely.
‘Of course,’ he agreed glibly. His eyelids drooped. ‘After all, I do have the brunette version of you available for my private pleasure.’
She dragged her pillow out from under her head and hit him in the face with it. He laughed and rose, ripping the sheets off her body and rolling her unceremoniously out of his bed.
‘Come on; you’re going to be late for work if you linger with your lover, and your boss might take you to task. Will cereal and juice and toast be enough for you, or would you like me to scramble you some eggs?’
Mmm, she could get used to such pampering, she thought later as she licked the marmalade from her sticky fingers at his dining-room table. She caught Marcus watching her over the top of his coffee-cup and cheekily poked her tongue out at him, but he didn’t smile.
‘I think you should make an appointment to see your doctor today,’ he said with brooding quietness. ‘That is, if you haven’t already consulted him.’
She frowned and put down her last piece of toast, suddenly feeling unpleasantly overfull. ‘It’s a her. And why should I have?’
Her brow cleared as she realised what he was delicately trying to suggest. ‘I’m not quite as irresponsible as you seem to think. I have condoms in my purse and, since I plan to always have my partners practise safe sex, I decided it wasn’t necessary to arrange any other form of contraception.’
His eyes narrowed at her use of both the plural and the future tense. ‘Any woman who plans to become sexually active should have a thorough check-up, just to make sure there aren’t any existing problems that could flare up,’ he said, adding wryly, ‘Especially if the lovemaking is frequent, prolonged and vigorous.’
