Kitabı oku: «It Started With One Night», sayfa 3

Today, it was not only top priority, but close to becoming an emergency!

It was Max’s fault, she decided as she swept into the bedroom and starting fumbling with the tiny pearl buttons of her pink shirt. The way he’d looked at her at the airport. The things he’d said about her clothes. That kiss, and then his threat to ravage her on the back seat of the car.

Tara finally stripped off her blouse then kicked off her shoes.

‘My screw-me shoes,’ she said with a wicked little laugh as she bent to pick them up, carrying the shirt and the shoes into the adjoining dressing room, where she’d put her bag earlier on. There, she stripped off her jeans and undies, stuffing them into the bag’s side-pocket for later washing. The shirt she hung up in her section of the walk-in wardrobe. The shoes she put into the special shoe rack before running her eyes along the clothes she kept at Max’s place, looking for something more comfortable to slip into.

Her mother’s kept-woman tag flashed into her mind at the sight of so many designer evening gowns, all paid for by Max, each worn to one of the many swanky dos Max had taken her to during the first few months of their relationship. Dinner parties at the homes of top politicians. Gala openings at the opera house. Art exhibitions. Balls. The races.

You name it, she’d been there on Max’s arm.

Actually, she had objected the first time he’d suggested buying her a designer dress. But he’d swept aside her possibly feeble protest with what had seemed like acceptable reasoning.

He could well afford it, he’d pronounced. But possibly his most persuasive argument of all was that it gave him great pleasure to see his gorgeous girlfriend in clothes befitting her beauty.

How could she possibly say no?

The lingerie, Tara realised as her eyes shifted further along the rack, had been more recent gifts, brought home from Max’s more frequent trips overseas. She had negligee sets from Paris, London, Rome, New York.

These were all she seemed to wear for him these days, now that she came to think of it. Max hadn’t taken her outside the door of this penthouse for some time. No doubt he wouldn’t this evening either.

‘Good!’ she pronounced aloud with a dizzying rush of excitement, and pulled out a green satin wrap which she knew complemented her fair colouring and green eyes. The matching nightgown she left on the hanger. No point in wearing too much.

Tossing the wrap over her arm, she headed for the bathroom and was about to have a quick shower before Max arrived when she remembered she hadn’t put her pills and her mobile phone on the bedside chest as she usually did. Dashing back to the dressing room, she retrieved the items from her bag and bolted into the bedroom to do just that. Then she stopped to quickly turn the bedclothes back before glancing around to see that everything was ready for a romantic interlude.

Not that Max’s bedroom needed anything to enhance its already romantic décor. Everything about it was rich and sensual. The soft gold carpet was extra thick and the gold-embossed cream wallpaper extra rich, both perfect foils for the dark mahogany wood used in all the elegant furniture. The four-poster bed. The bedside chests. The dressing table and matching stool. The cheval mirror that stood in one corner and the wingbacked chairs that occupied the other corners.

The soft furnishings were rich and sensual-looking as well, all made in a satin-backed brocade which carried a gold fleur-de-lis design over an olive-green background. A huge crystal and brass chandelier hung from the centre of the ceiling, but there were also several dainty crystal wall lights dotted around the room.

Tara loved it when it was dark and all the lights were turned off except those. The room took on a magical glow which was so romantic. Much better than the bedside lamps which she thought threw too much light onto the bed. And them.

Of course, the pièce de résistance in Max’s bedroom was the four-poster bed. Huge, it was, with great carved posts and bedhead. The canopy above was made of the same material as all the other soft furnishings, draped around the edges and trimmed with a gold fringe. There were side-curtains, which theoretically could be drawn to surround the bed, but were always kept pulled back and secured to the bedposts with gold tasselled cords.

Tara ran her fingers idly through one of the tassels and wondered what it would be like to be in bed with Max with the curtains drawn.

‘What are you thinking now?’

‘Oh!’ Tara gasped, whirling to find Max standing in the doorway of the bedroom, staring at her with coldly glittering eyes.

‘I…I didn’t hear you come in,’ she babbled, her heart pounding madly as she tried to cover herself with her hands.

With a sigh Max stalked into the room, his face now showing exasperation. ‘Don’t you think we’ve gone past that, Tara? I mean, I do know what you look like naked. Surely you must know that I’d like it if you walked around in front of me nude,’ he finished as he took off his jacket and threw it onto the nearest chair.

She just stared at him, her heartbeat almost in suspension. But her mind was racing. Yes, yes, it was saying. I’d like to do that, too. Truly. I just can’t seem to find the courage.

‘And there I was,’ he muttered as he yanked his tie off, ‘thinking today that you might have finally decided you wanted more than for me to make love to you under the covers with the lights turned down.

‘It’s all right,’ he added a bit wearily when she remained frozen and tongue-tied. ‘I understand. You’re shy. Though heaven knows why. You have the most beautiful body God ever gave to a woman. And you’re passionate enough, between the sheets.’

Turning away from her, he tossed the tie on top of the jacket then started undoing the buttons on his shirt.

‘Go and put something on,’ he bit out, not looking at her. ‘If you must.’

Tara dashed into the bathroom and shakily pulled on the green wrap, hating herself for feeling relieved. When she finally returned to the bedroom, Max was sitting on the foot of the bed, taking off his shoes and socks. His shirt was hanging open, but he hadn’t taken it off.

Tara’s heart sank. Did he think she was that modest? She loved his chest, with its broad shoulders, wonderfully toned muscles and smattering of curls.

‘Did…did you fix up things for those people?’ she asked somewhat sheepishly.

‘Naturally,’ he replied without looking up at her. ‘I had them moved into one of the honeymoon suites, on the house. And I told them they could have a free harbour-view room for their anniversary next year.’

‘Oh, Max, that was generous of you. And very smart. That man would have bad-mouthed the hotel for years, you know. To anyone who would listen. Now he’ll say nothing but good things. People love getting something for free. I know I do. I can never resist those buy-one, get one-free promotions.’

‘Really?’ He finally looked up, but his clouded eyes indicated that he was suddenly off in another world. Max did that sometimes. Tara knew better than to ask him what he was thinking about. Whenever she did, he always said ‘nothing important’.

‘So which honeymoon suite are they in?’ she asked instead. The hotel was famous for its four themed honeymoon suites, which Tara knew cost a bomb to stay in. Bookings showed that the Arabian Nights suite was the most popular, followed by the Naughty Nautical suite, the French Bordello suite and, lastly, the Tropical Paradise suite.

‘What? Oh, there was only the one available tonight. The French Bordello. Mr Travis seemed tickled pink. Can’t say the same for Mrs Travis. She seemed a little nervous. Maybe she’s on the shy side. Like you.’

‘I’m not all that shy,’ Tara dared to say at last.

Max darted her a dry look.

‘All right, I am, a bit,’ she went on, swallowing when he stood up and started undoing his trouser belt.

The prospect of watching him strip down to total nakedness before he’d even kissed her was definitely daunting. But at the same time she wanted him to, wanted him to do what she wasn’t bold enough to do, wanted him to force her to stop being so silly.

‘Don’t panic,’ he said drily and, whipping out his belt, deposited it with his other clothes. ‘I won’t take anything more off. I’m going to have a shower, and when I come out I’ll be wearing my bathrobe. Meantime, why don’t you order us something from Room Service? I don’t know about you but I’m starving. I nodded off on the plane so I didn’t get to eat anything. I’ve made us a booking for dinner at eight but that’s hours away.’

‘We’re going out to dinner?’ Tara said, taken aback.

‘I’ve only booked the restaurant here in the hotel. Is that all right with you?’

‘Oh, yes. I love going to dinner with you there. It’s just that…well, the last couple of times you’ve come home, we’ve eaten in.’

‘Yes, I know. And I’m sorry. That was selfish of me. But, as I said earlier, you’re a different girl between the sheets, so I try to keep you there as long as possible.’

She blushed. ‘Don’t make fun of me, Max.’

He groaned and walked round to draw her into his arms. ‘I’m not making fun of you, princess. I would never do that. You’re you and I love you just the way you are.’

‘Kiss me, Max,’ she said quite fiercely.

His eyes searched hers. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not yet.’

‘But I can’t wait any longer!’

‘You can’t wait. Hell, Tara, what is it with you today? Are you punishing me for neglecting you lately?’

‘I just want you to kiss me. No, I need you to kiss me.’

With a groan, he kissed her. Then he kissed her some more, till her knees went to water and she was clinging to him for dear life. When he swept her up and dropped her less than gently onto the bed, Tara made no protest. Neither did she turn her eyes away whilst he started ripping off the rest of his clothes.

She wanted to look. Wanted to see him wanting her.

Her breath caught at the extent of his desire.

He loomed over her, tugging the sash of her robe undone, throwing the sides back to bare her body to his blazing eyes.

For what felt like an eternity, he drank her in, leaving her breathless and blushing. Then, with a few more savage yanks, the satin robe joined his clothes on the floor.

There was no tender foreplay. No gentle kisses all over. Just immediate sex. Rough and raw. Maybe not quite ravagement but close to.

And oh, how she thrilled to the primitive urgency of his passion. And to her own.

She splintered apart in no time, rocked by the force of her orgasm, overwhelmed by the experience, and by a degree of emotional confusion.

As the last spasm died away, a huge wave of exhaustion flooded Tara’s body, her limbs growing as heavy as her eyelids. She could not keep them open. She could not stay awake. With a sigh, she sank into the abyss of sleep.

CHAPTER FOUR

MAX stared down at her with a stunned look on his face.

Asleep! She’d fallen asleep!

He shook his head in utter bewilderment. Tara never fell asleep afterwards.

On top of that, she’d actually enjoyed his making love to her like that! Hell, no, she’d exulted in it! She’d dragged him over the edge with her in record time. And now she was out like a light, more peaceful than he’d ever seen her.

Relief swamped him at the realisation he didn’t have to feel too much remorse over losing control and being less than the careful, considerate, patient lover he’d come to believe Tara wanted, and needed. Not losing control when he was around her this past year had been a terrible battle between the lust she evoked in him, and the love.

Max thought he’d done pretty well…until today.

If only she hadn’t met him looking delicious in those skin-tight jeans and those sexy shoes. If only she hadn’t told him she wasn’t wearing a bra. If only he hadn’t kissed her then and there.

His relationship with Tara was full of ‘if only’s, the main one being if only he hadn’t stopped to look in the window of Whitmore Opals that Friday night, and spotted her inside.

It had been lust at first sight. When she’d agreed to have drinks with him less than ten minutes after his going in and introducing himself, he’d been sure he was in for a wild night with a woman of the world. With his impossible workload and repeated overseas trips, Max’s sex life had been reduced to the occasional one-nighter with women who knew the score, and Tara seemed just the ticket to ride.

But the reality had proven so different. Her telling him shakily that she was a virgin even before he’d got her bra off had certainly put the brakes on the type of activities he’d been planning. Max had been shocked, but also entranced. Who would have believed it?

Fortunately, finding out before he’d gone too far gave him the opportunity to slow things down and make sure her first experience was pleasurable and not painful. He’d taken her to bed and really taken his time with her.

Looking back, making love to her at all had probably been a mistake. He should have cut and run. But he hadn’t; that very first time had made him swiftly decide that one night with Tara would not be enough. He’d kept her in his bed all weekend, making love to her as he hadn’t made love to a female in years. Sweetly. Tenderly. And totally selflessly.

Unfortunately, this was what Tara came to expect from him every time. Max soon realised he was dealing with a girl whose appearance belied her real nature. Underneath the sexy-looking blonde surface, the long legs and fabulous boobs, lay a naively romantic girl.

In some ways, Tara could be surprisingly mature. She was well-educated, well-read and well-travelled. And she certainly had a way with people, exuding a charm and social grace far beyond her years.

But when it came to sex she was like a hothouse flower, gorgeous to look at but incredibly soft and fragile.

Or so he’d thought, up till now.

Max sat back on his haunches and stared down at her beautiful but unconscious body, lying in shameless abandonment in front of his eyes.

If only she would lie like that for him when she was awake…

Max almost laughed at this new ‘if only’.

But maybe she would in the near future, came the exciting thought. She’d said she wasn’t totally shy and maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she just lacked the confidence to do what she really wanted to do. All she needed was some masterful persuasion at the right time, and a whole new world would open for her.

Up till this moment, Max had reluctantly accepted that Tara didn’t seem the raunchy type of girl. He’d reasoned it was worth sacrificing some more exotic experiences to feel what Tara could make him feel, what she’d made him feel from their very first night together.

But tonight had shown him that maybe, they could share more erotic lovemaking together in future.

Max became aroused just thinking of the things he’d like to do with her, and her with him. Not a good idea when it looked as if she would be asleep for some time. A shower was definitely called for. A cold one.

Wincing at his discomfort, he climbed off the bed and carefully eased the bedclothes from underneath Tara’s luscious derriere, rolling her gently onto the bottom sheet before pulling the other one up to her shoulders. She stirred but didn’t wake, though the sheet did slip down to reveal one of her incredible breasts.

Max bent and pressed his lips softly to the exposed nipple before whirling away and heading straight for the bathroom.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘WHAT?’

The startled word shot from Tara’s lips as she sat bolt upright in bed. She blinked, then glanced somewhat glazedly around before realising what had woken her so abruptly.

It was the alarm on her mobile phone, telling her it was six o’clock, reminding her it was time to take her pill.

With a groan, she leant over and picked up the small pink handset, pressing the button which turned off the alarm. The sudden silence in the room highlighted Max’s absence. She wondered where he was, then wished she hadn’t. She didn’t want to think about Max at that moment.

Tara retrieved her packet of pills from the bedside chest, popped today’s pill through the foil then swallowed it promptly without bothering about getting any water. The doctor had warned her that you had to take the mini Pill around the same time every day or risk getting pregnant. Tara didn’t take hers around the same time. She took it at exactly the same time every day.

That done, she threw back the sheet and—after checking that Max wasn’t lurking in the doorway watching her—Tara rose to her feet. She winced at the wetness between her legs.

Impossible to pretend any longer that she didn’t remember what had happened before she fell asleep.

Why she was even trying to forget suddenly annoyed her. She hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of. Neither had Max, for that matter.

So he’d made love to her more forcefully than usual. So what? He’d delivered exactly what she’d been subconsciously wanting since he’d threatened to ravage her at the airport. And how she’d loved it!

Tara quivered all over at the memory. Had she ever experienced anything with Max quite so powerful before? She didn’t think so.

The sight of her green wrap lying tidily across the foot of the bed brought a frown to her forehead. Max must have picked it up off the floor whilst she was asleep. His own clothes as well. They were now draped over one of the chairs.

He hadn’t dressed again, she realised with a tightening of her stomach. He was somewhere in the penthouse, probably wearing nothing but his favourite bathrobe. Tara hurried into the bathroom to check, and yes, his bathrobe was missing from where it usually hung on the back of the bathroom door. And his towels were still damp. Obviously, he’d showered whilst she’d been asleep.

Swallowing, Tara hung her wrap up on the empty hook behind the door, wound her hair into a knot on top of her head, then stepped into the spacious, marble-lined shower cubicle.

She wasn’t yet sure what she was going to do after she’d showered. All she knew was that her body was already rebuilding a head of steam far hotter than the water which was currently cascading over her body.

She didn’t spend much time in the shower. Just long enough to ensure that she was freshly washed and nicely perfumed. She was careful not to wet her hair. She didn’t want to present herself to Max like some bedraggled kitten come in from a storm. Her hair was not at its best when wet. And she wanted to look her very best.

No, Tara amended mentally as she towelled herself down then slipped her arms into the silky wrap. She didn’t want to look her best, but her sexiest. She wanted to tempt Max into stopping doing whatever he was doing and take her back to bed. Right now.

For a second she almost left the wrap hanging open, but in the end decided that was tacky. So she tied it just as tightly as usual. Actually, even a bit tighter, so that her small waist was emphasised, as well as the rest of her curvy figure.

Swallowing, Tara took one final glance in the huge mirror which stretched along above the double vanity basins. On another day, at another time, she would have taken the time to make her face up all over again. There was little of her pink lipstick left, and her mascara had smudged all around her eyes. But she rather liked her slightly dishevelled look. She even liked the way her hair was up. Roughly, with some escaping strands hanging around her face. She looked like a woman who’d just come from her lover’s bed. She looked…wanton.

Spinning on her bare heels, Tara headed for the bedroom door.

The hallway that led from the master bedroom to the main body of the penthouse seemed to go on forever. By the time she reached the main living room, she wasn’t sure if she was terrified or over-excited. Her heart was going like a jack-hammer and her mouth was drier than the Simpson Desert.

But Max was not there.

Disappointment rather than relief showed her that nerves were not the most dominating force in her body at that moment. Desire was much stronger.

Whirling, she hurried down the hallway which led to Max’s den, his favourite area of the penthouse when he was up and about. It was actually two rooms, connected by concertina doors which were always kept open. The first room you entered was a study-cum-library, a very masculine room with no windows, book-lined walls, a desk in one corner and several oversized, leather-studded chairs in which to sit and read. The next room was the billiard room, which had a huge, green-felted billiard table, a pub-like bar in one corner, complete with stools, and lots of French doors which opened onto the balcony.

Max was an excellent snooker player and had tried to teach Tara in their early days together, when they had time for more than bed. But she was never much good and they hadn’t played in ages.

Tara wasn’t about to suggest a game today. She had other games in mind, a thought which both shocked and stirred her. She’d never thought of making love as a game before.

Her hand shook as it reached for the brass door knob but no way was she going to back out now. But she didn’t barge straight in. Tara had been brought up with better manners than that. She tapped on the door before she opened it, then popped her head inside.

Max, she swiftly saw, was sitting in his favourite chair, bathed in a circle of soft light from the lamp which stood behind the chair. Yes, he was wearing the white towelling bathrobe, she noted. And yes, nothing else, not even on his feet.

But he wasn’t exactly sitting around, impatiently waiting for her to wake up so that he could make love to her again. He was working. And drinking. His laptop was open and balanced across his thighs, he was sipping a very large Scotch and chatting to someone on the phone at the same time.

Max was one of those rare men who could actually do more than one thing at a time.

‘Ah, there you are,’ she said, containing her irritation with difficulty.

Instead of asking him if it was all right if she interrupted him, as she usually would have, Tara walked straight in and shut the door behind her.

He was taken aback, she could see. But that was just too bad. This was her time with him, no one else’s.

When he put up his hand towards her in a stopping gesture and kept on talking—something about a website—rebellion overcame Tara’s usually automatic tendency to obey him. Slowly, she moved towards him across the expanse of dark green carpet, her hips swaying seductively, her breasts moving underneath the wrap. The act of walking parted the silky material around her knees, giving tantalising glimpses of her bare legs.

One of his brows arched as he eyed her up and down. ‘I’ll have to speak to you later, Pierce,’ he said into the phone. ‘Something’s just come up.’

‘Much later,’ Tara said as he clicked off the call. Pierce was only Max’s PA, after all. He could wait.

Max smiled an odd smile before dropping his eyes back to the laptop screen. ‘I have something I have to finish up here first, Tara,’ he said without looking up at her again. ‘Why don’t you toddle off back to bed and I’ll join you there as soon as I can?’

Pique fired her tongue before she could think better of it. ‘What if I don’t want to go back to bed? What if I want to stay here? What if I want you to stop working right here and now?’

Slowly, his eyes rose. Hard and glittering, they were, just as she liked them. He sipped some more of his drink whilst he studied her over the rim of the glass.

His gaze was knowing. He was mentally stripping her, making her face flush and her nipples tighten.

‘Make me,’ he said at last, his voice soft and low and dark.

His challenging words sent a bolt of electricity zigzagging through her, firing her blood and her resolve not to weaken. Because she knew what he wanted. He wanted to see her, all of her. Not lying in a bed, but standing upright, in front of him. Facing him.

Her heartbeat quickened whilst her hands went to the sash on her wrap. She might have fumbled if the knot had been difficult, but she only had to tug the ends of the ties to make the bow unravel. In a split-second, the sides of the wrap fell apart.

But he showed no reaction whatsoever, just went back to sipping his drink.

Shock at his low level of interest held her frozen, and finally, his eyes dropped back to the screen in his lap.

‘Go back to bed, Tara,’ he said. ‘Clearly, you’re not cut out for the role of seductress just yet.’

Stung, she stripped the robe off and dropped it to the floor. When he still didn’t pay her any attention, she went right up to him and banged the lid of the laptop down.

‘Look at me,’ she hissed.

He looked at her, his narrow-eyed gaze now travelling with exquisitely exciting slowness over every inch of her nakedness.

‘Very nice,’ he murmured. ‘But it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.’

‘You might see something new,’ she threw at him, ‘if you put that drink down. And that infernal computer.’

He closed the laptop and placed it beside the chair, but kept the drink. He looked her over again as he leant back into the chair and took another mouthful of whisky.

Now fear did return. The fear of making a fool of herself.

‘I’m waiting,’ he said, and finally placed the near-empty glass on the small round side-table next to the chair.

Tara swallowed.

‘Come, come, Tara. This is your show. I’m curious to see how far you’ll go before you turn tail and run. I’m not going to help you one little bit.’

Tara gaped at him as the realisation struck that he didn’t just want her to parade herself in front of him. He wanted her to make love to him.

If he’d issued this type of challenge on any other day before today, she probably would have turned tail and run. But today was a different day in more ways than one. Today, a new and exciting dimension had entered their relationship and she refused to retreat from it.

Don’t think, she told herself as she stepped forward to stand between his stretched-out legs. Just do what he thinks you don’t dare to do.

She heard his sharp intake of breath when she knelt down and reached for the sash on his robe.

Don’t look up at his face, she warned herself shakily.

She didn’t want to see any undermining shock, or surprise, in his eyes. He’d told her once he didn’t mind how provocative or assertive she was in private. Well, he was just about to get a dose of provocative assertiveness, even if she was quaking inside.

The sash on his robe was as easy to undo as her own, being only looped over. Pushing the sides of the robe back was not so easy, because she knew what would confront her when she did so.

Her eyes widened at the sight of him.

So his apparent uninterest had all been a lie! He was already aroused. Fiercely so.

Tara resisted the urge to close her eyes and put her mind elsewhere. Her days of cowardice were over. She would look at him there, and touch him there, and kiss him there.

Yet oddly, once she started stroking the velvety length of him, once she felt Max quiver and grow even harder beneath her hands, any reluctance or revulsion melted away. Tara found herself consumed by the intense desire to make the beast emerge in him again, to drive him wild with pleasure and need, to love him as she had never loved him before.

Max could not believe it when she took him into her mouth, making the blood roar through his veins, his flesh expand even further, threatening to make him lose all control.

Surely she would not want that. Surely not!

Max groaned his worry that he might not be able to stop himself. Then groaned again when her head lifted, showing him that he had wanted her to continue more than anything he had wanted in a long time.

But any disappointment was swiftly allayed by her crawling up onto the chair onto his lap. She was even at that moment straddling his tautly held thighs, her knees fitting into the far corners of the chair.

He gasped when she took him in her hands again and directed him up into her body. Her hot, wet, delicious body. She sank downwards and suddenly he was there, totally inside her. Her face lifted and their eyes met, hers dilated, his stunned.

‘Max,’ was all she said before she bent down to kiss his mouth, her hands cupping his face, her tongue sliding deep into his mouth.

How often had he hoped for a Tara like this?

Then she began to ride him. Slowly at first, but then with more passion. The wilder rise and fall of her hips wrenched her mouth away from his. Her hands fell to his shoulders to steady herself, her fingernails biting into his flesh till suddenly her back arched, her flesh gripping his like a vice.

‘Oooh,’ she cried out.

The power of her climax was mind-blowing. He exploded in erotic response, the pleasure blinding as, all the while, she kept moving upon him, rocking back and forth, her eyes shut, her breathing ragged.

Afterwards, she sank down against his chest, her head nestling into the base of his throat. His arms encircled her back and he held her like that for quite a while, both of them silent and content.

But inevitably, the significance of what had just happened came home to him. His gorgeous Tara had finally abandoned her inhibitions.

Suddenly, he wanted her in every way a man and a woman could make love.

Tara sat up straight, her startled eyes searching his.

‘Too soon?’ he said, his hands sliding down her back to cup her bottom.

She shook her head.

He kept on caressing her bottom, and soon her lips fell apart on a sensual sigh of surrender. Max had never felt such love for her. Or such desire.