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Even so, she missed the precise moment of his arrival. It was the faint rasp of the key turning, locking them in together, which jolted her upright, her heart thudding.
She said with a little gasp, ‘Oh, you’re here at last. Why have you locked the door?’
The only reply was a soft laugh, which could have meant anything, when what she needed was reassurance.
She sensed movement rather than being able to see it. Breathed a trace of fragrance, musky and expensive, in the air.
It was almost like being blindfolded and having to rely on animal instinct.
Then he was there beside her, the warmth of his thigh against hers, his hands on her shoulders, drawing her towards him, and for a moment her taut body resisted, her palms flattened against the crisp frills of his dress shirt.
Because there were things that should be said, and she wanted the candles lit so she could see his face while they were saying them. While, perhaps, they sipped the promised champagne.
She whispered, ‘Adam,’ and felt his finger touch her lips to hush her.
She realised he was bending towards her. His mouth grazed her hair, her temples, her closed eyes and the curve of her cheek before moving down to her bewildered mouth, brushing it like silk, gentling her into the acceptance—the strange excitement—of his unseen presence. Making her lift her hands to clasp his shoulders. To cling to them.
It was all so different, she thought wonderingly. Almost surreal—like some dark dream she never wanted to end.
He kissed her again, slowly, coaxing her lips to part for him, so that his tongue could penetrate the moist softness within, sending a shiver of delicious awareness through every nerve ending in her body.
Persuading her to respond, shyly at first and then with growing confidence, growing pleasure, as their tongues tangled, sweetly and sensuously. Showing her how wonderful kissing could be when it didn’t have to be hurried. When there was no fear of interruption.
At the same time, his fingertips were stroking the line of her throat, lingering on the curve of her shoulder, then drifting down her back, over the narrow barrier of her top to the silky expanse of warm, bare skin beneath. Where, for an instant, he paused, as if surprised, before continuing his leisurely exploration, his fingers feathering down her spine.
And as Dana gasped and arched involuntarily towards him, she felt him smile against her lips.
He moved then, one arm round her waist, the other under her knees, lifting her, so that she was lying across his thighs, cradled against him.
And he was kissing her again, his lips deepening their demand, as he pulled aside the soft fabric of her top, his hand cupping one small pointed breast, his thumb playing with her nipple, teasing it into erect, aching sensation.
For the first time in her life, Dana was experiencing the full, practised seduction of a man’s intimate touch, and she knew that now, if ever, was the time to truly resist. To call a definite halt before her body went into meltdown.
‘Adam, you must listen...’ Her voice was husky, almost unrecognisable, but once again his only response was the finger laid gently against her parted lips, forbidding further protest.
He found the three pearl buttons that fastened her top and released them before sliding the tiny garment from her shoulders, and discarding it.
Then, bending his head, he took one aroused rosy peak into his mouth, suckling it with delicate hunger, then moved to the other, the erotic flicker of his tongue against her flesh making her moan softly.
She realised in some distant corner of her mind that he was unhooking the waistband of her skirt and removing that too.
And as he kissed her mouth again, his hand began a lingering traverse from her knee along the slender length of her thigh, tracing the edge of her lace briefs with one tantalising finger.
She was too caught up in him, the cool taste of his mouth on hers, the astonishing delight of his touch and the untold pleasures it promised to realise at first that there was a noise.
She was vaguely aware of—something. Some intrusion on the edge of her drowning consciousness. And felt his sudden tension as he heard it too.
Someone was outside, she realised, shocked. Trying the door handle. Rattling it in angry frustration.
‘Dana—are you there? Hurry up and open the door, sweetheart.’ Adam’s voice, pitched low but unmistakable.
For a moment she was still, frozen with disbelief. Because Adam was here with her—making love to her. Wasn’t he?
Her throat closed in horror. She began to struggle, but it was useless. She was locked, helpless, in the cage of his arms. Dumb too under the ruthless pressure of his mouth, as it enforced her silence.
