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She had him completely in her thrall. He would give her all the riches he owned, his heart, his soul, everything to ensure she’d never stop what she was doing now. He couldn’t stop his hips from leaning into her and she moaned as if she was enjoying it, her eyes closed, wrapping her hand round him, gripping tight and working him till he didn’t know who he was or what he wanted any more. Except her. Always craving her.
The base of his spine prickled. Any moment now he’d lose himself completely. He pulled out and she made a small whimper of protest.
‘Up here,’ he growled. Lance bent down, hands under her arms as she surged to his mouth, teeth clashing as she kissed him, wrapping her arms round his neck as he slammed her against the cool tiles. She lifted her leg and he gripped it, hauling her up his body with both hands under her backside, opening her to him. The panting of their breaths filled the room.
He angled himself, and the heat of her centre began to envelop him as he gave one hard thrust and entered her. She moaned long and low. Her nails scraped against his scalp, fingers gripping his hair. It stung as she tugged, but he relished the pain. Thrusting hard and deep, their bodies slapping and sliding against each other, grappling for purchase. That prickle in his spine started again, something heavy and unstoppable. Sara’s legs tightened around his waist as her whole body clenched and spasmed round him. She tore her mouth from his and cried out, tumbling over the precipice. He followed with a roar echoing through the room.
He was spent, legs weak. The only thing keeping him upright was that he held Sara, and he didn’t want her to fall, wouldn’t let her go. He eased out of her, and she slid down his body, the water still streaming over him. Her lips were red as summer cherries, her body marred by finger marks and evidence of how rough he’d been. She’d wanted to check for his injuries, but he’d hurt her. He stroked his hand over the marks he’d left.
‘You’ll bruise.’
She smiled, a glorious sight with her bee-stung lips. ‘I don’t mind. I love your marks on me.’
Marks, they had consequences. A chill ran through him. Consequences. He hadn’t worn a condom. He dropped his head to hers. ‘No protection.’
She smoothed the hair from his face. Ran her hands over his chest. Was he ready for her again? His heart pounded. She made him insatiable. And, strangely, the fact that he hadn’t worn a condom didn’t trouble him as much as it should have.
‘I’m on the pill and I assume...you’ve been checked?’
‘I have.’
He took his health seriously, the reassurance of his partners even more so. And the secret truth was that, despite the tabloid chatter, he hadn’t been with anyone for some time. And he’dneverbeen with anyone unprotected.
She brought her lips to his. ‘Then let’s spend the rest of the afternoon in bed.’
His mouth descended on hers once more. Against his better judgement, he couldn’t say no.
CHAPTER NINE
SARACURLEDUPin a chair in the bright parlour sipping coffee, shoes off, the sunshine warming the room. This was her favourite place in the house, with its yellow-papered walls adorned with little roses, overlooking the rose garden itself, which she’d been talking to the gardener about renovating to its former glory. And if this was her favourite room, then sitting with Lance after breakfast, as he attended to business whilst she looked on, was becoming one of her favourite pastimes. Small domestic moments that made her feel as if she belonged somewhere.
As he did every morning, Lance read the death notices. It seemed like a morbid enterprise, but he’d told her he was always looking to see who’d died and needed their estate‘picked over like a carcass’. It was an odd thing to say when she found their hunting trips, as she now called them, exciting. She hadn’t found anything like a Caravaggio, but she had identified some beautiful, valuable pieces which would hopefully do well at auction. Her parure had been sold. Soon she’d be completely independent of him, as she’d wanted.
She didn’t know why that thought sat so heavily on her chest.
Sara took another sip of the rich, strong brew that the kitchen had perfected. She was sure her presence in Astill Hall was keeping Lance away from what he should be doing. His business was in London after all, but he didn’t seem to mind being in the country. A complicated man in many ways, he kept so much hidden from her. Only in bed did he lay himself bare, and for those passionate hours she felt blessed. They’d settled into a kind of routine here, working together. Making love. Then when Lance was away, attending to duties around the estate, she’d explore the place herself.
‘You’ll get in trouble, looking at me like that.’
Lance’s gaze hadn’t lifted from his phone at all.
‘How do you know I’m looking at you?’
He lifted his eyes, and something about them had changed, their appearance liquid and heated. ‘I can always feel you looking at me.’
Lance dropped his mobile to the couch, stood and sauntered over to her with a lazy roll of his hips that made her think of a stalking predator.
‘You’re too far away.’
She put down her coffee and he swooped on her, swinging her into his arms. She laughed. ‘Your tea will get cold. I know how you like it hot.’
‘The only temperature I care about is yours.’ He turned and walked back to his spot on the couch and sat with her nestled in his lap, nuzzling her neck with his lips, the warmth of his breath sending shivers through her.
‘See?’ he murmured against her overheating skin, as he trailed gentle fingers along her arm. ‘Goosebumps. You need warming.’
He liked to play, she realised, take things slow, wind her higher and more frantic until she splintered, screaming his name loud. Right now, she didn’t want slow. She wanted fast. As she straddled him, he slid his palms to her backside, dragging her forwards and flush against him.
His hardness nestled between her thighs.
