Sarah Morgan - Temporary Mistress

She bit her lip and winced at its swollen sensitivity. ‘I’m—’

‘I hope you’re not going to say you’re sorry,’ he interrupted her with a growl.

‘But I—you—’ Her freckled face was so enchantingly dismayed that his rigid jaw flickered with sultry amusement.

‘I said I couldn’t wait. I wanted you wild for me,’ he said in a voice like smooth dark chocolate. ‘I got what I wanted.’

‘I—you did?’ Her golden eyes were still muddied with doubt.

‘It was incredibly sexy seeing you lose control,’ he said, flexing his hips between hers, letting her feel the iron-hard proof of his words. ‘Wanna play turnabout?’

Not exactly sure what he was suggesting, Nora nervously licked her lips and he uttered a sharp groan. ‘I take it that’s a yes,’ he said, divesting her of the trailing dress with a few quick tugs and sinking into a crouch to slide her daring shoes off her unresisting feet. On the way back up he trailed his fingers over the front of her stockings and plain white panties, while he pressed kisses into her dappled skin. But as he rose between her breasts he froze, a frown thundering across his brow.

‘My God, what’s this?’ He touched the crimson abrasions on the side of her breast, recoiling as she winced.

‘It’s nothing…I told you before, I have very sensitive skin,’ she said dismissively.

He swore under his breath, his eyes following the tell-tale path of reddened patches. ‘Damn it, stop trying to take the blame for something that’s entirely my fault!’ He dragged his hand across the coarse black stubble on his chin. ‘I haven’t shaved since this morning; no wonder I almost rubbed you raw,’ he castigated himself.

He sounded so horrified that she almost smiled. ‘But you didn’t. Really, it’s all right.’

‘No, it’s not,’ he said grimly. ‘I hurt you. I wasn’t thinking—’ He gently stroked her reddened breast and she trembled.

‘Neither was I,’ she tried to convince him. ‘How could I have—uh— you know …if I thought what you were doing was painful?’

His eyes flamed. ‘I’m likely to be a great deal less restrained in the throes of an orgasm,’ he said bluntly, disdaining her feeble euphemism. ‘I’m bigger and stronger than you are. I don’t want to risk hurting you like that when I’m inside you—I’m going to have a shave before I touch you again,’ he said, stepping back from temptation.

Nora immediately felt self-conscious, wrapping her empty arms around her semi-nude body to disguise her lack of curves.

With a smouldering look at her innocently provocative pose, Blake bent and picked up his shirt, dropping it loosely around her shoulders from whence it hung almost to her knees, scooping her hair out from under the collar and fluffing it out around her oval face.

‘Better?’ he commented, drawing the open sides across her breasts where they peeked at him from her sheltering arms, not hiding the fact that he found her unexpected shyness arousing.

‘Hadn’t you better pick up your jacket, too?’ she said jerkily. ‘You’re supposed to be arranging for your suit to be cleaned—’

‘I thought that was just an excuse for you to get my clothes off,’ he murmured, and she lowered her eyes guiltily.

‘It’s still going to need professional treatment.’

‘Especially since we seem to be adding a new category of stain,’ he goaded, drawing her attention to the damp spot on his trousers where she had straddled his thigh.

Nora blushed at the graphic evidence of her violent excitement, her flustered reaction turning his mockery into smouldering concupiscence.

‘Maybe I should have that shave before this conversation goes any further,’ he said, dropping a quick hard kiss on to her parted lips. ‘Feel free to help yourself from the mini-bar; anything I have is yours…’

And with all my worldly goods I thee endow? Nora flinched at the interpretation that popped into her head. She knew he was talking about a glass of wine and a bag of nuts, not a lifetime of loving trust and mutual sharing.

Nora snaked her arms into the sleeves of his shirt as he headed for the bathroom, her eyes falling on the shambles they had made of the desk. In her confused emotional state it suddenly seemed vitally important to restore a sense of order to her physical surroundings. Perhaps that way she might bring some order to her chaotic feelings, find her way back to that liberating sense of rightness that she had felt whilst in his arms.

‘What are you doing?’

She turned, papers slipping from her nerveless hand, her eyes widening at his altered appearance. He wore a plush white three-quarter length towelling robe with the hotel’s monogram discreetly embroidered on the breast pocket. He was frowning, but more in impatience than suspicion, and she waved one hand helplessly in the air.

‘Just tidying up—trying to make myself useful…’

‘Forget it,’ he ordered dismissively. ‘I didn’t bring you here to play the domestic.’ He caught her fluttering hand and tugged her towards him, lifting her palm to his still scratchy chin. ‘I’ve decided I need a shower as well as a shave. I came to the party straight from work, in the same clothes I’ve been wearing all day.’

He lowered her hand to the burnished wedge of chest revealed by his loosely tied bathrobe, holding it there as he walked slowly backwards, drawing her along after him. ‘If you have a compulsion for neatness, I’m sure you prefer your lovers to be freshly laundered…’

Nora could feel the heavy beat of his heart reverberating through flesh and bone. ‘You don’t have to bother on my account,’ she said breathlessly, obliquely informing him that she liked his earthy male aroma.

He tipped his head to one side, his mellow voice caressing. ‘For my sake, then.’

His eyes ran over her pale limbs, glimmering at him through the gaps in his shirt. ‘I rather thought I might entice you to join me. You can make yourself useful as my soap bearer…’

He had reached the door of the steamy bathroom, the sound of the pulsing shower-head within almost drowned out by the thunder of blood in Nora’s ears.

‘Perhaps while I’m shaving you might like to wash my back—and anything else that takes your fancy…’ he drawled.

He must know that she found everything about him wildly fanciable! The provocative admission trembled on the tip of her tongue, until she glanced past him and saw the gleaming empty bath next to the heat-misted glass shower cabinet.

In her mind’s eye the bath expanded to take up the whole room, her memory filling it with a kaleidoscope of flickering images that made her desire curdle in her stomach.

Nightmare reality crashed into her fantasy-fuelled dream world.

What on earth was she doing?

She fell back, slipping her hand out of his, flattening it defensively over her heart.

His eyebrows rose. ‘No?’ Clearly, rejection was a rather startling novelty.

‘I—I think…I’d rather not, if you don’t mind,’ she managed lightly, edging further out of sight of the bath and the spectral frolics that had visited her with a degrading sense of déjà vu.

She braced herself for a backlash of wounded male pride, but Blake’s grey eyes were merely quizzical.

‘Don’t tell me that you have a phobia about water, too?’ he said.

Nora shook her head dumbly, tucking a curl behind her ear with a nervous gesture that caused his eyes to flicker upwards and an enlightened smile to dawn on his saturnine face.

‘But of course…you don’t want to get your hair wet—I quite understand.’ His good-humoured resignation spoke of an intimate knowledge of the vanity of women. ‘In that case, I’ll be as quick as I can.’ He turned her around and sent her on her way with a caressing pat of her sleek bottom. ‘Meantime why don’t you slip into something more comfortable? I’m sure you’ll find the bed a perfect fit…’