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'What's the matter, Cally?' he asked mockingly, as she hesitated. 'Not feeling quite so brave any more?'
She didn't look at him. 'No.' The word was little more than a breath.
There was a touch of impatience in his own sigh. He patted the bed beside him. 'Come here.'
She went slowly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, her body rigid. Nick began to release the buttons from their loops, his fingers deft and oddly dispassionate, as if he was taking care not to touch the bare skin he was uncovering. When he'd finished, he reached for the nightgown and draped it over her arm.
'Get changed in the bathroom,' he directed quietly, to her utter astonishment. 'Longer than five minutes and I come to find you.'
Cally fled, hugging the flimsy folds in front of her like a shield. Which, of course, it wasn't, she realised, as soon as she slid it over her head, a few flurried moments later. The bodice's tiny ribbon-edged cups barely veiled her small breasts, and the long skirt was sheer when she was still, transparent when she moved.
But she'd bought it. Along with all the other pretty sexy things in her lingerie drawers that she'd hoped would please him. Because she'd wanted him. Wanted to turn him on.
She thought painfully, And, so help me, I still do...
She turned off the light and went back to the bedroom on reluctant bare feet.
Nick was in bed, his robe a pool of darkness on the floor.
Propped on one elbow, he watched her cross the room and slide nervously under the covers beside him.
'Admirably punctual,' he said softly.
Her throat was dry. 'Nick—please don't make fun of me.'
'I wasn't planning to.' He reached for her, drawing her to him, holding her close against the warmth of his body, her head pillowed on his shoulder. He said, 'Now, go to sleep.'
There was a short, amazed pause, then Cally said, 'I—I don't understand.'
'I hardly understand myself.' His mouth twisted. 'Except that it's been one hell of a bloody day, and hardly conducive to the fulfilment of passion, however one-sided,' he added with a touch of harshness. 'So, accustom yourself to sleeping with me, Cally, if nothing else. Get used to the idea of my arms being round you, because from now on that's how it's going to be.'
He switched off the lamp and the night enclosed them. Cally could feel the strong beat of his heart, the texture of his skin under her cheek, and felt longing stir within her.
In a way, this was her sweetest dream come true. In another, her worst nightmare, because wrapped in his arms like this she felt safe, and that was just another illusion to be discarded with the rest. Because with Nick there could be no safety—no comfort or lasting joy. It was all—ephemeral. And it was dangerous too, because when it ended it would be that much harder for her to detach herself and walk away.
When Cally opened her eyes, the room was just beginning to fill with pale grey light. She moved slowly, languidly, stretching a little, wondering what had woken her. She turned her head and saw Nick lying on his side, watching her.
He said, 'Good morning.'
'Is it?' She tried to see the small porcelain clock on the night table. 'It still seems very early.'
'It's dawn,' he said.
'Dawn?' Cally echoed incredulously. 'But I'm never awake this soon.'
He smiled at her. 'You can blame me for that. I decided to wake you—like this. He bent over her, brushing her lips gently with his. 'Do you have any objection?'
'No.' Her mouth framed the word but no sound would come.
'Good.' He pulled her into the curve of his body, his hand cupping her breast almost casually, as if he'd kissed her awake a thousand times before.
'It's the beginning of a new day,' he whispered, as she gasped. 'A perfect time to put everything in the past behind us, don't you think? To make a fresh start?'
He looked down into her widening eyes, then kissed her again, more deeply, coaxing her lips to part for him, allowing his tongue to tease hers delicately and sensuously.
In that moment she knew that the past couldn't simply be swept away as easily as he suggested. That it would always haunt her. Always have the power to hurt her. And the fact that his relationship with Vanessa Layton was by no means over would eventually inflict more pain upon her than she could stand.
She owed it to herself to fight him, she told herself desperately. To succumb without protest was a shameful thing.
At the same time she realised that it was not Nick she had to fight, but herself. She might be ashamed of her hunger for him, but she couldn't deny it, or hide it. And during their months apart it had grown into a famine.
Impossible, now. to resist the magic of his mouth moving on hers, inciting her to response. A little sigh rose in her throat as she yielded fully to the warm, persuasive pressure of his lips, holding nothing back, her hands going up to clasp his naked shoulders.
