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'No, stop,' she begged, and Gil lay very still on her for a moment or two. When he didn't move it no longer hurt, and she relaxed again, enjoying the warmth and pleasure of his body on her. He kissed her gently, stroked her hair. She kissed him back whispering, 'Sorry, I'm sorry...'
'No need to be,' he said, kissing her throat. 'No need to be sorry at all. I'm your first and that's a great compliment, I like that very much.' He kissed her breasts softly, first one and then the other, his tongue teasing, his hand splayed on her, spreading down over her flat belly to where their bodies had become one, and Caro gave a little groan of shock and pleasure at the brush of his fingertips there.
He kissed her mouth and her arms closed on his body, she arched against him in a remorseless return of desire, and Gil began to move again, very slowly, very gently, the rhythm building up until she was moving with him, her cries wild, her head thrown back.
Afterwards she felt as if she had fallen into a deep dark lake and drowned in abandonment. She lay in exhausted contentment, her body limp, and Gil lay beside her, his arm thrown across her, his head pillowed on her breast, his legs warmly twined with hers.
There was nothing to say, nothing that needed saying; happier than she had ever been in her life before, Caro slowly drifted into sleep.
A loud ringing shocked her awake; her eyes flew open, for a second not sure where she was, then she felt Gil's nakedness next to her, his hand on her breast, his legs pinning hers, and she remembered everything, and was at once crimson and couldn't look at him.
Gil swore huskily, sitting up. He looked down at her, as if amazed to see her, and Caro could have died. She shut her eyes, like a child who believed that that would make her invisible.
'Who the hell can be ringing at this hour?' he said and got off the couch. Opening her eyes, Caro had a disturbing glimpse of his body as he stalked over to a table where a telephone was ringing. Her mind played instant replays of their lovemaking and she had to bite her lip to stop herself groaning. She had begged him to make love to her. She could hear herself moaning, pleading. She wished she were dead.
Gil snatched up the phone. 'Yes?' he snapped, and then his face changed. He looked across the room at Caro, who was frantically dressing now, her hands fumbling, her face hotly flushed, her eyes shamed.
'Yes, she's here,' Gil said slowly.
Caro froze, looking at him in horrified query. 'It's your father, Caro,' Gil said in a flat, calm voice, but he didn't give her the phone. She could hear the loud and angry tones of her father's voice on the line. Gil listened, his mouth hard, and when Fred paused Gil quickly cut in.
'Yes, I realise what the time is... The party went on
quite late and... Oh, you had a call from Amy? Yes,
well, we did leave some time ago, but we came back here
to have a nightcap- '
Fred's voice shouted him down for a moment; Caro couldn't hear what he was saying, but she knew that roar—her father was in a temper and trying to bully Gil. It did not seem to worry Gil, however. He interrupted Fred after a moment, his own voice brusque.
'Caro isn't a child. She's a woman; an adult woman. Why don't you let her get on with her own life?'
Caro had managed to get back into her dress now. She looked at her watch, horrified to see that it was four in the morning. She hurried over to grab the phone out of Gil's hand. 'I'll be home in ten minutes, Dad,' she said huskily and hung up before her father could say anything in reply.
'Could you get dressed quickly?' she asked Gil without actually looking at him. She didn't need to; she was deeply, disturbingly aware of his nakedness and the close proximity of that sexy body was sending heat waves through her.
He didn't move. 'Does he always wait up for you when you're out at night?' he said in a voice she did not like at all.
'No, but--- ' she began and he cut across her words.
'And does he always ring your date to complain if you aren't back by midnight? My God, I could understand it if you were a teenager, but you're apparently one of his top executives, a woman with a very important job. He seems to trust you at work—why doesn't he trust you to look after yourself on a date?'
'He usually does---- '
'Oh? Then why check up on me?'
'I don't know,' she said irritably. 'He probably woke up and discovered I wasn't in, and was worried once he saw the time! I hadn't
warned him I'd be out all night.'
'Do you have to have his permission?'
'No, of course not... but...'
'Do you often stay out all night?'
'No, I don't,' she said furiously, because she thought he was making too much of a natural anxiety on her father's part. 'That's probably why Dad was worried.'
