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She still floated in postcoital languor, but when she moved, she’d be sore. He was a large man, and he’d used her relentlessly.
He could wait before he had her again.
At least until he’d fed her and given her a glass of wine. Except it meant withdrawing from her and shattering this strangely comfortable silence.
The room was shadowy with twilight. Last week, he’d made plans to meet his cronies at the opera tonight. He wasn’t going anywhere. All the music he needed was right here. “I hope the champagne’s cold.”
With a satisfied sigh, he pulled away and turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, while his mind sifted the various delights of the afternoon.
The mattress dipped as she slid up in the bed, her breasts jiggling deliciously. They truly were magnificent. White and firm and voluptuous. He hadn’t paid them nearly enough attention. Something to remedy next time. His cock stirred in agreement.
“I…I have to go,” she said unsteadily.
Ashcroft’s uncharacteristically amiable mood evaporated. Sharply, he turned his head and stared at her, trying to read her expression.
She looked uncomfortable. More than at any other time during the whole passionate afternoon. His curiosity awoke. And his wariness. She met his eyes, then glanced quickly away to where her fingers plucked at the crushed white sheets.
He couldn’t mistake her nervousness. And she looked guilty.
Why?
“Must you?” he asked neutrally even as his brain picked and fretted at the barriers she erected.
She nodded with a jerkiness that indicated she lied. “Yes. Yes, I must.”
“Don’t go.” He reached to still her fidgeting. “We’ll have supper. Conversation. And I promised you a bath.”
He didn’t mention how the evening would end. She knew as well as he that they’d make love again. Probably several times. He was insatiable. He’d never wanted a woman so much.
Her hands trembled, and the gaze she directed at him was dark with misery. Good God, she looked on the verge of tears. What had happened here?
Suspicion slithered like a snake through his gut and warned him he should never have fallen for her lures. But it was too late to break away. If she promised destruction, it was destruction laced with a pleasure as addicting and deadly as opium.
“No, I…I must go.” She shook her head and lowered her eyes. A wave of golden hair slid across one bare shoulder and dipped over the sheet she clutched with incongruous modesty.
Except he knew at heart she was a modest woman. Her wildness resulted from passion. Which made her surrender all the more gratifying. He was barbarian enough to relish the contrast between her essential reticence and her overpowering desire.
She quickly glanced at him then away. “I…I wish you’d put some clothes on.”
How did she hope to pass herself as a worldly woman when her color revealed her feelings so immediately? He made no move to obey. Her attention drifted to his nakedness, and he hid a smug smile. She wanted him. She might try to create a distance between them, but she failed miserably.
He sat up and slipped a hand behind her head, the warm softness of her hair tickling his fingers. “Stay.”
“Ashcroft, not now…” she faltered although she made no attempt to evade him.
Her words might deny him but her body definitely said yes. He dropped kisses on the corners of her mouth. Her lips parted in silent invitation.
He slid his other hand down and, after a soft tug, pulled the sheet from her hold. With one finger, he circled her hardening nipple.
He lowered his head to kiss her properly. His lips glanced across hers, he caught a hint of heat and moisture before she wrenched away.
Another jarring warning clanged in his brain. Why was she so devilish skittish?
In a flurry of movement that offered a breathtaking glimpse of full breasts and long, slender legs, she rolled off the bed. To his regret, she dragged the sheet with her. She wrapped the white linen around herself and raised her chin with a defiance he recognized.
“I must go, Ashcroft. It’s been…” She paused and swallowed. Her traitorous color rose again. Her voice was thick as she continued. “It’s been a revelation.”
He liked the word. He liked it very much indeed. He also liked that he clearly wasn’t the only person swept away in turbulent emotional currents. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
