Laura Martin - Perfect Strangers

There was a slight pause and then the lips curled into a brief, unexpected smile. ‘That would be good—thank you. I take mine white, no sugar.’

Olivia released a cautious breath and found that relief was flooding through her. Jake Savage had been tending to the dog for almost an hour and in that time she had become increasingly anxious that once his task was at an end he would pick up his bag and the animal and walk out of her life without another word.

Why? The question raced into her mind. Why did it matter that she might not see him again?

He stood up, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that communicated a deeply ingrained tiredness, unthinkingly stretching to his full height of six feet plus, and immediately cracking his head against one of the low blackened beams.

‘Oh, my goodness! Are you OK?’ Olivia winced at the sound of his skull meeting oak and rushed towards him, frowning in sympathy, instinctively reaching up and touching the dark, glossy head. ‘This ceiling is dreadfully low, isn’t it? You’ll have to be careful in future.’

She stilled, her whole being transfixed by the feel of his thick black hair beneath her fingers, by the close proximity of Jake Savage’s powerful body, by her words. She was overwhelmingly conscious of what she had just said—the future? Did she think they had one? Did she imagine she would see this man again after today? Did she want to?

She tried to snatch her hand away, but Jake Savage was far too swift for her. ‘It’s just here,’ he murmured. His large hand covered hers, moving her fingers across his head. Dark, dangerous eyes looked down into her face. ‘Can you feel that?’

Olivia’s fingers came into contact with a raised bump and she nodded. ‘Y. . .yes.’ Physical contact with this man meant she was whispering again, as if the effect of touching or being touched by him somehow diminished the power of her vocal cords. ‘It must hurt,’ she murmured, wishing she had the strength to pull her fingers free, knowing deep down that she didn’t want to.

His gaze was intense, focusing steadily on her increasingly mobile expression.

Olivia swallowed. A stillness settled over the interior of the room. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. There was no confusing this sensation of inevitability. Olivia ran her tongue nervously over her parched lips and waited, catching her breath a little as the dark head lowered very slowly, very deliberately.

This was what she had been waiting for all of her life. She hadn’t been wrong before.

This man called Jake Savage would mean something to her, meeting him, wanting him, loving him.

This was her destiny.

CHAPTER TWO

JAKE claimed her whole being with a passionate, sensual kiss that caused Olivia’s world to tilt on its axis. His mouth was warm and sensual and searching. Her lips parted of their own accord and she felt the true taste of him, she felt the energy, the longing, the need burning between them. . .

No words were necessary. What was there to say? The electricity, the unexplainable certainty that this would happen, had been between them from the beginning. Since that first look, that first touch. . .

His hands were impatient. Searching, moving sensually over the close-fitting dress, exploring every outline, every curve. She gasped as he dragged his mouth from her lips and began kissing the arched curve of her neck, pulling back her cardigan from her shoulders to reveal the covered zip of her dress.

Olivia’s hands flew to his shirt, twisting, gripping the fabric. She felt as if she were drowning and only this man could save her. Trembling fingers slipped beneath the fabric and she felt for the first time the true power of his frame, the strength of pure muscle, the softness of tanned skin, the roughness of dark, curling hair. She felt, too, his reaction to her touch, the sharp breath, the increased pressure of his mouth on her lips.

It was the swift intensity that affected her so deeply. She wanted, shockingly, to be free of the restriction of her clothes. She wanted, she ached to feel the roughness of his hands on her naked body. . .

He knew. Men like Jake Savage always knew.

She gasped as his fingers grazed her skin. Feelings Olivia didn’t even know she possessed spun wildly around inside her head as he began to unfasten her dress. This passion that had been there, lying between them from the beginning, needed assuaging, it needed to reach the ultimate climax. No time to talk, no time to get to know one another—that could come later. . .

‘My bedroom. . .upstairs.’ Her voice was a whisper. A great part of her could hardly believe she was daring to be so bold. Cool, prim Olivia Hamilton? ‘Frigid Olivia’, as Paul had once described her?

‘Has it a bed?’ His voice was deep and husky, his mouth warm and hungry against her skin.

‘Of course.’ She raised her head and kissed him passionately, pressing her body against his towering frame. ‘At least, I hope so. . .’

‘In that case. . .’ Jake swung her into his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather and carried her effortlessly up the narrow staircase.

His tread sounded hollow on the bare boards and as he carried her in the darkness Olivia knew a fleeting moment of doubt.

He dragged his mouth from hers, pausing on the top step, sensing the sudden rigidity of her slim frame. ‘You do want this. . .?’ Silvery moonlight shone through the landing window, illuminating the rugged planes of his face. ‘Olivia?’ His dark eyes were questioning.

She looked up at him, her eyes scanning every angle, every contour of his face. She knew what she wanted. Rational thought tried to spoil the way she felt, but she thrust it away. Why should she follow her old rules? Why should she? She ached with wanting him. Never before had she experienced such passionate need, such desperate, intense longing.

‘Yes,’ she murmured unsteadily. ‘Yes, I do.’

She clung to him as he caressed her body, gasping with pleasure as his powerful hands took control. Waiting for the right moment. . .wanting her first experience to mean something, to be special. . . All those months of rebuffing Paul’s impatient advances. . . it had all been justified. She had waited for this moment, this man for all of her life.

He took sudden and full possession of her then and Olivia found herself crying aloud, tensing a little in spite of everything.

‘Olivia?’ She heard the ragged incredulity in his voice, the sharp intake of breath as Jake fought his own physical needs and desires. ‘You’re a—!’

‘Please!’ Olivia whispered imploringly, acutely aware that her world would fall apart if he rejected her now. ‘It’s all right.’ She gripped his body tightly, moved against him, pressed her lips against the bronzed skin of his shoulder, working to convince him anyway she knew how. ‘I want this!’

There was a split-second of hesitation, then a faint groan as will-power vanished. ‘So do I,’ he confessed, his voice gruff with desire, ‘so do I. . .’

He was a magnificent lover. Better than Olivia had imagined even in her wildest dreams; strong and powerful, ruthlessly in control, but with kisses that were tender as well as passionate, a touch that possessed silk as well as steel. . .

Olivia found herself crying aloud many times, but there was no pain involved once that special moment had been passed. Only pleasure—pleasure for them both.

It took some time for their desire to diminish; they made love, they kissed and touched and then they wanted each other again. The evening slipped into night and eventually their passion was satisfied.

In the darkness Olivia could hear Jake’s ragged breathing. She felt replete, wonderful, oozing with a happiness that she didn’t wish to analyse.