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Her throat closed in alarm. 'Nothing, I'm okay.' She pushed at his wide shoulders without making any impact on him at all. Indeed, he laughed, looking down into her flushed face, his eyes darkly bright.
Softly he said, 'Why are you in such a panic, Zoe? What are you afraid of? Me? Or yourself?'
'I'm not afraid of you or myself,' she lied, ice trickling down her spine in spite of the curious fact that her body was burning. If anyone had asked a month ago what sort of person she was, she would have said she was a cool, clear-headed professional woman. Someone rational and balanced. Not given to extremes. Now she was suddenly a battleground for violent swings of feeling, of reaction and counter-reaction, back and forth, and it was deeply disturbing.
'Sure about that?' Connel's head bent, his warm mouth brushed her neck, and she took a deep, shaken breath.
'Don't!'
She shifted her head back out of reach, giving his shoulders another shove. He was like a wall, big and immovable, and it made her dizzy to find her head so far back. 'I don't want you kissing me!'
'Don't you, Zoe?' His mouth slid inch by inch upwards from her throat. She knew he was going to kiss her and she told herself to stop him, wrench herself free, escape, but she didn't have the energy or strength.
His mouth finally touched hers and her fingernails dug into his shirt in fierce reaction. Her lips parted; her eyes shut. She kissed him back with a passion she couldn't dam, a desire that rose like floodwaters in her body, taking her away with them.
She couldn't think. A chilliness crept through her, darkness engulfed her. Her knees really gave and she slowly slid down backwards, unable to hold on to consciousness.
The next thing she knew she was apparently whirling through the air. Her lids flickered, lifted; she wildly looked around and realised she was being carried across her shadowy bedroom.
She looked up into the hard, male strength of the face just above her.
'Ah…you've come to,' Connel said huskily close to her ear.
'What happened?'
'You fainted.'
'I never fainted in my life!' she protested.
'Well, there's a first time for everything,' he said, putting her down on her bed and leaning over to switch on her bedside lamp. 'What do you want to wear in bed?'
Alarm bells at once began ringing in her head. 'Never mind. I can manage.' She struggled up against the pillows, defensively watching him. 'Leave the washing up; I'll do it tomorrow. Thank you for being so kind—cooking and…it was a lovely meal. But…but I'd rather you left now.'
He gave her a mocking look. 'Afraid I'm going to climb in bed with you?'
'No! I…no…' she stammered, knowing that was exactly what she was afraid of.
Through his dark lashes his eyes glinted. 'Don't worry. When I make love to you I'd prefer you to be wide awake and very aware of what I'm doing.'
So would she, but, flushed and trembling like a leaf, she glared at him.
'You won't be making love to me! Now or in the future!'
He smiled and her heart turned over heavily.
'Oh, yes, Zoe. I will.'
'Go away!' she whispered, wanting him to leave before he could see just how vulnerable she was to him.
'Sure you can manage to undress? I'm getting quite good at it I seem to do it all the time.'
The teasing in his voice made her want to scream.
'Will you go?' she hoarsely demanded.
He turned and walked out, saying over his shoulder, 'If you need me…for anything…I'll be downstairs for the next half-hour or so. Just give me a yell.'
She waited until he had gone downstairs before rushing over to lock her bedroom door, then she undressed, went into the bathroom for a few minutes, and put on pyjamas before climbing back into bed, setting her alarm clock for the usual time. She refused to think about Connel or her own weird, inexplicable reactions to him. Within minutes of her head hitting the pillow she was fast asleep.
