Conveniently His Omnibus(18)

‘Sophy...’

She swung round, going pale as she found Jon standing behind her. How long had he been there? Had he heard? She swallowed tensely and looked at him but he was looking the other way.

‘If you don’t mind I’d like to leave. This headache...’

Relief flooded through her. Of course he hadn’t overheard! Hot colour scorched her skin as she remembered what she’d said. Now that it was over she felt weak and trembly. There was nothing she wanted more than to leave, and she went mutely with Jon as he sought out their host and hostess.

They drove back in silence, Sophy leaving Jon to go upstairs whilst she took Susan home.

Once she got back she didn’t linger downstairs herself. She too was tired, drained of all emotion. She paused outside Jon’s room, without knowing why, listening to the floorboard creak beneath her foot.

The door was open and she heard him call her name. She went to the door and stood just inside it. He was sitting on the bed, his head in his hands.

‘Why did you do it?’

His voice was a faint thread but she still heard it, the blood freezing down her spine as apprehension gripped her.

‘Do what?’

She heard him sigh. ‘Come on, Sophy, you know quite well what I mean...that little scene with Lorraine. I heard it all, but both of you were too engrossed in each other to realise I was there. It certainly was a very talented performance on your part,’ he added tiredly. ‘How did you do it? By calling up memories of how it was with Benson?’

Sophy could feel the blood draining out of her skin.

‘No.’ She practically choked on the denial. ‘No...’ she added more quietly, ‘I simply used my imagination.’

He wasn’t looking at her, but she could feel the tension gripping him. ‘What exactly do you mean?’

Suddenly she was tired of fencing...of pretending. ‘You’re the logician, Jon,’ she told him wryly, ‘Surely you can analyse what I’ve said and draw your own conclusions. I didn’t enjoy Chris’s lovemaking, as a matter of fact. In fact I found it a total turn-off. It was painful...and empty. I can assure you that he found me less than satisfactory as well.’

‘Really? So why is he still pursuing you?’

‘Because he resents the fact that I appear to be enjoying with another man what I did not enjoy with him,’ she told him bluntly, ‘and he likes causing trouble.’

‘You can say that again.’ He looked directly at her for the first time, reaching one hand behind his neck to rub away the tension.

‘Headache still bad?’

‘Mmm...’

‘I’ll massage your neck for you if you’d like.’

Now why on earth had she said that? Tensely waiting for his repudiation she was stunned when he turned and stretched out on the bed, muttering, ‘Thanks, that would be great.’

He had already removed his jacket, but his shirt was still on. Even so, Sophy dared not suggest that he remove it. Instead she leaned down towards him, flexing her fingers. She had learned the basics of massage after a bad fall in her teens when she had injured her leg and had found relief from the pain of it by massaging the tense muscles and it seemed it was a skill that once learned was never lost, although there was a world of difference in having Jon’s hot flesh beneath her hands rather than her own.

Almost by instinct she found the hard lumps of acidic matter that denoted tension and started massaging them. She felt Jon tense slightly and then relax, although he said nothing. Time ceased to exist as she concentrated on her task. Jon was breathing slowly now...so slowly that she felt sure he must be asleep. She eased gently away, flexing her own body.

‘Don’t stop.’ The slurred words stopped her in mid-movement, her eyes widening as Jon sat up, his fingers tearing impatiently at his shirt buttons until he had them all free. Shrugging out of his shirt he threw it on the floor, flopping back down on the bed. ‘That feels good, Sophy,’ he told her thickly. ‘Do it some more.’

She obeyed him mindlessly, smoothing the sleek skin beneath her fingertips, enveloped in the musky male scent of his body as she bent closer to him, trying to tell herself that what she was doing was something she would have done for anyone.

Only he wasn’t anyone. He was Jon...and she loved him...loved him? She tensed, staring blindly into space, waiting for her heart to catch up on its missed beat. Of course she didn’t love him. She wanted him, desired him, yes...but love? She fought hard but it was no use, she did love him.

The knowledge was appalling. How long had she hidden it from herself? How long had she loved him? Days, weeks, months...before they were married, even? She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, and knowing it was impossible. The shock was too great.

‘What’s wrong?’

She withdrew as Jon sat up, backing away from him. He wasn’t wearing his glasses but he was looking at her as though he could read every expression on her face.

‘I want you.’ He said it softly, reaching for her before she could move, fastening his fingers round her wrists and tugging her towards him until her progress was impeded by the edge of the bed. ‘Was it true what you told me about Benson?’

‘That he was the first man to discover that I was frigid, do you mean?’ She was glad that he had reminded her of reality because it gave her something to fight with.

‘Is that what you are?’ He tugged on her wrists again, not very gently this time, laughing at her as she overbalanced and fell on the bed in an ungainly heap. She tried to roll away from him, her angry protest smothered by the heat of his mouth as it imprisoned her own.

Heat, searing and intense, beat through her in fierce waves, a heat that had nothing to do with the hot summer night outside. This heat was generated within herself, a blazing conflagration that threatened to totally destroy her. She had never, ever felt like this before. It frightened her that she should now.

Every instinct she had told her she must escape before Jon discovered for himself the humiliating truth, but although his grip on her was now only light, somehow it was impossible to drag her mouth from his, to give up the aching pleasure of the way his mouth moved on hers aroused. His tongue touched her lips and they parted, admitting him to the moist sweetness beyond, the breath catching in her throat as the intimacy of his kiss engulfed her and she clung helplessly to his shoulders, aware of the hot sleekness of his skin beneath her fingers; aware of the frantic thudding of her heart against her ribs...of the slow ache coiling through her lower body, the moist heat between her thighs.

Suddenly it was impossible to resist. Her tongue touched his, tentatively at first and then more daringly, her body melting with heat as she heard his fiercely indrawn breath and felt the muscles of his chest compress.

Her whole body was aching with desire for him and he had only kissed her. Only kissed her, that was all. Her lips clung despairingly to his as she felt their pressure ease and she thought she felt him smile as his mouth moved slowly over her skin, exploring the shape of her face, his breath warm against her ear.

‘Let me take this off.’

She felt his fingers touch the single fastening that held her dress on and reacted instinctively, her body tensing, as she begged, ‘Please don’t do this, Jon.’

But it was too late and anyway he wasn’t listening to her. His eyes were fastened on the twin peaks of her breasts, fully exposed to him now that their covering of silk had slithered away. Transfixed, she watched as his head bent slowly towards her breasts, remembering on a sudden wave of revulsion how Chris had bitten her tender flesh and how she had recoiled from him in pain and shock. Until now she had forgotten that...but she had not forgotten his anger and contempt.

She reached out protestingly, her fingers digging into Jon’s shoulder. Her voice thick with anguish as she pleaded, ‘Please...’

The downward movement of his head stilled and he looked at her. ‘What is it?’ he asked her softly.

Not even the familiar sound of his voice could calm her. ‘I don’t like it,’ she heard herself whimpering. ‘It hurts...’

She saw his eyes darken and tensed in expectation of the same angry contempt Chris had shown her but instead he said gratingly, ‘Is that what he did, Sophy? Did he hurt you?’

She closed her eyes, not daring to reply in case she burst into tears. What was the matter with her? Not so very long ago she had lain awake at night tormented by her aching need for Jon to touch her but now that he was...

‘Well, I promise you I won’t.’

She could feel the tension in his body as his hands cupped her breast. Despite herself she shivered slightly. He was looking at her, forcing her to meet his gaze, and then he bent his head and gently kissed each coral nipple with warm lips.

A shuddering sigh was wrenched from deep within her, the fear flooding out of her, pushed by the slow tide of desire coming in its wake. The sensation of Jon’s mouth against her breast had been both reassuring and tormenting. She wanted more than the light brush of his lips against her skin, she realised achingly. Much, much more—but Jon was already moving away from her.

Reacting instinctively, she reached towards him curling her fingers into his hair, feeling the unmistakable hardening of her nipples beneath the heat of the sharp breath he expelled.