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Turning around, she found Jack standing there—his rugged features flushed and his eyes gleaming dark.
‘I wondered where you’d gone,’ she whispered—wondering whatever had happened to all her good intentions about carrying on as normal. Did ‘normal’ include running her fingertips through the thick raven hair with a sense almost of wonder? Or leaning forward to inhale that raw masculine scent of soap and sandalwood which was all his—and dancing her lips in front of his.
‘And did you miss me?’ he murmured.
Once before he had asked her that same question and back then she had fudged the answer in order to protect herself from her growing feelings for him. But now—surely—there was no need to erect barriers, not when he had torn them down with the heady power of his love-making. Her finger brushed against his lips.
‘Yes, I missed you. I missed you a lot,’ she said. ‘Where did you go?’
‘I was getting us a drink.’
Looking over his shoulder, she could see a tray with champagne and glasses sitting on a table. ‘Champagne?’ she questioned, on a note of surprise.
‘I feel like champagne, don’t you?’ He walked over to the table and eased the cork from the bottle with a loud pop, before pouring two fizzing glassfuls and handing her one. ‘Here.’
‘Thanks.’ Ashley took the glass and gave it a wistful smile. ‘I’ve never drunk champagne in a man’s bedroom before.’
‘Then your education is only just beginning, Miss Jones,’ came his mocking reply. ‘But before we go any further—I think we’d better get something straight between us.’ His voice was suddenly serious as his eyes captured hers. ‘Nobody must find out about this, Ashley. Not Christine—not anybody. Do you understand? This is between you and me—nobody else.’
Ashley’s smile didn’t falter—though inside her heart was racing. Did that mean he was ashamed of her? Ashamed of his own weakness in having chosen her as his lover—rather than someone like Nicole who would have been a million times more suitable? But maybe he’d chosen his secretary because he could guarantee her obedience. Her willingness to please. And her reluctance to ask him why. Did he realise that her own insecurities meant that she wouldn’t do anything which might threaten this precious bubble of happiness which was enveloping her?
‘Of course I do,’ she said.
‘Good.’
But the champagne tasted sour on her lips and did nothing to dull the urgent questions in her mind. Wouldn’t any other woman who valued herself have objected to his desire for secrecy?
And didn’t secrecy imply that there was something wrong about what they were doing?
CHAPTER TEN
‘SO WHATwould you like to do this after
noon, my little green-eyed minx?’
Lying tangled amid the rumpled sheets, Ashley registered the lazy approbation of Jack’s smoky-eyed gaze as he stroked a lazy finger from collar-bone to breast. Was this how every woman felt when she was in bed with a man she had grown to love? As if she were ten feet tall and could climb mountains without getting out of breath? Luxuriously, she stirred. ‘How about something beginning with “S”?’
His hand continued its erotic journey. ‘Not more sex?’ he questioned with a mocking smile. ‘Are you completely insatiable?’
‘Why?’ Ashley’s eyes widened. How quickly she had learnt to play the bedroom games of flirtation. Just as she had learned all the other things her experienced lover had taught her. ‘Don’t you like me being insatiable?’
He circled a still-puckered nipple. ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way. You are the most assiduous.’ his mouth now drifted to the rosy tip itself and he felt another great tug of desire ‘… pupil—that any man could wish for.’
‘Am I?’
‘Mmm.’
Ashley gave a sigh of pleasure as his lips worked their particular magic. And he was the most perfect teacher that any woman could ask for. He had taught her that sex could be many things: it could be urgent, lazy or infinitely tender. Jack Marchant wasn’t so much her dream man—he exceeded every fantasy she’d ever had. She’d never thought she’d find herself initiated into the art of love-making by someone who was so uniquely passionate and intense. Who could make her want him the moment he looked at her. She’d never imagined that she would be the lover of a fabulously wealthy man and spend nights in his vast bed while the harsh wind from the moor keened outside the window.
It was a relationship which had made her blossom in every way—and hadn’t she dared believe that their liaison had benefitted him, too? Because hadn’t his haunted dreams of the past stopped happening? No more did he pace the corridors at night, locked in his own inner turmoil—instead he slept soundly, wrapped contentedly in her arms. And hadn’t her own self-esteem grown as a result of that?
Tangling her fingers in the ruffled raven of his hair as she had longed to do countless times when she’d sat quietly working opposite him in his office, she snuggled closer. ‘I was thinking we should get some fresh air, Jack,’ she reflected. ‘We should get up and go for a walk. Just because it’s winter doesn’t mean we shouldn’t make the most of the daylight—and we can’t stay in bed all day.’
‘Can’t we? Can you give me one good reason why not?’
‘Because sooner or later we need to eat something.’
‘I’d like to eat you.’ Jack buried his face in her neck, inhaling her wholesome soap-and-water scent and marvelling how everything with her seemed so easy. She wasn’t constantly invading his space. Wanting to invade his mind, to know what he was thinking—and, more pertinently, to know what he was thinking about her. Against the softness of her firm skin, his eyes briefly closed. And shouldn’t he thank whatever lucky stars he had that she didn’t pry and question him? Because if she did.
