'Have I grown another head?' Roarke asked, reminding her she was staring, and her lips twitched.
'No, the one you've got is quite handsome enough.'
His brows rose. 'Sounds interesting. Tell me more,' he urged, with a rakish glint in his eye that taunted her to do something that would surprise him.
She knew what she wanted to do, and why shouldn't she? There was nothing stopping her but herself. Once upon a time nothing would have stopped her following her instincts. She had liked that person, and she could be her again-if she had the courage.
Just do it, Ginny, a small but insistent voice urged her, and suddenly she found herself taking one step and then another. Several more and she was standing in front of him. Her hand went to his neck, and for a moment their eyes met, his showing mild surprise. Then, a smile curving her lips, her gaze dropped to his. Rising on to her toes at the same time as her hand exerted just enough pressure to urge his head down, she set her mouth on his. Her tongue traced a silken caress over his lips, and they parted, allowing her entrance. With his hands full, there was nothing Roarke could do save surrender, and it gave Ginny a heady sense of power to take the initiative this way. She explored his mouth at leisure, her tongue seeking his and joining in a duel that set her pulse hammering and caused Roarke to moan low in his throat.
That was her cue to move away, and she did so with a certain amount of reluctance, stepping back from him. She looked at him steadily, seeing an arrested look in his eyes.
'What was that for?'
'I wanted to surprise you,' she answered simply.
He shook his head and laughed huskily. 'Sweetheart, you did more than that. You've made it virtually impossible for me to sleep tonight.'
She was instantly contrite. 'I'm sorry.'
'Don't be.' He waved that away. 'I could do with a few more surprises like that. Right now, though, I need that nightcap. How about you?'
'I'm going to go up and shower,' she refused.
'Well, you don't have to worry about using all the hot water. I'll be taking a cold shower later,' Roarke returned drolly.
Laughing softly, Ginny left him there and went upstairs to their room. She wasn't sorry she had kissed Roarke like that. It had felt good to follow her instincts again and act on impulse. He had taken it well, but she had known he would. She was getting to know him very well.
In their room, she found the maid had already been in to turn down the bed. Collecting her nightdress, she kicked off her shoes and padded into the bathroom. Stripping off her clothes, she stepped under the shower and let the warm water send down its soothing spray over her. She did a lot of her thinking in the shower, and tonight was no different. She had a lot to think about.
Her eyes had been well and truly opened by her response to Roarke, showing her in no uncertain terms that it was time she stopped fooling herself and started being true to herself. She was not the cold-blooded type. She had cut herself off from feeling, for fear of being hurt. At eighteen, in her inexperience, she had allowed passion to cloud her judgement, because she had so wanted to be loved. She had been an easy mark but she was no longer that girl. She was a woman in control of her life, who shouldn't be afraid to go with her instincts. By ignoring them she had almost made a serious mistake again. She would break the news to Daniel as soon as she returned home.
That decision brought with it an amazing sense of freedom. She felt as if she could breathe again. Now she had to leave the past behind, look forward and see what came. There was nothing stopping her from doing anything she wanted to do. If getting involved with Roarke, even for a brief moment, was a mistake, then it was hers to make. As he said, they would be hurting nobody.
Taking a deep breath, she turned off the water and stepped out, reaching for a luxuriously fluffy towel and wrapping it around her. It was time to stop thinking and act. She dried herself, slipped into her nightdress and towelled her hair dry, finger-combing it into place.
When she stepped back into the bedroom, Roarke was coming out of his dressing room. He was barefoot, wearing only his trousers. He had already taken the pillow and cover from the bed and laid them out on the couch as he had last night. It pleased her that he had taken nothing for granted, but at the same time it piqued her that he had assumed the decision was made. As she had told him, she hadn't made up her mind.
'Feel better?' he asked casually, letting his eyes rove over the feminine curves scarcely hidden beneath the cream silk nightdress.
The way it sent a lick of fire over her skin made Ginny feel as if the material wasn't there at all. Goose-bumps chased their way over her flesh, and she felt her nipples harden to sensitive points that thrust against the silk covering. Roarke could scarcely miss her response, and she saw his chest rise as he took a deep breath, but although his eyes flashed, he made no move to approach her.
Ginny cleared her throat. 'I'm cleaner, I don't know about feeling better,' she told him openly, and amusement danced across his face.
'That makes two of us. Somehow I get the feeling the cold shower isn't going to count for very much. It's going to be one hell of a long night!' he added as he headed for the bathroom. The door closed with a soft click behind him.
Ginny stared after him, knowing that it would be a long night for her too, with him lying only a few yards away. Especially as they both wanted something else. Her gaze swept round to the makeshift bed on the couch. This was ridiculous. There was no reason why they shouldn't have what they wanted. It wasn't a first date, for heaven's sake! They had known each other for months. The passion was new, but the spark had been there. They'd just interpreted it as something else.
Before she even realised she was doing it, she had gone to the couch and retrieved the pillow and cover and returned them to the bed. Of course, as soon as she had done it, her stomach turned over at the decision she had made, but she knew she wouldn't change it. There was no way, however, that she could simply sit on the bed waiting for him, so she went to the French window that opened on to a tiny balcony and stepped into the cool night shadows.
Pretending to look at the view, her ears were straining to hear the sounds from the other room. She heard the water stop and imagined him towelling himself off, then fastening another towel around his waist. He would reach for the light switch, then … Another soft click alerted her to the fact that he had left the bathroom. She tensed, imagining him finding the changed sleeping arrangements. Her heart started to race.
'Ginny?' The soft question made her glance round.
Roarke was standing by the end of the couch, watching her. He looked pretty much as she expected. His broad, tanned chest with its mat of dark silky hair stood out in contrast against the white towel hitched on his hips. He looked good enough to eat, and she was hungry-very hungry.
'Are you sure about this?' he asked, inclining his head towards the empty couch.
'Oh, yes,' she replied huskily, and it was all he needed to hear. He came to her, reaching out to gently cup her face with his hands. Grey eyes searched hers for any sign of doubt and found none.
Nevertheless, he still gave her an out. 'You know you can change your mind at any time. All you have to do is tell me to stop, and I will.'
The words made her heart turn over. No matter what she might have accused him of in the past, she had discovered he was an honourable man. She set her hands on his chest and instantly felt the reverberations of his quickened heartbeats. Any nervousness she had been feeling drained away. She was suddenly very sure of what she wanted.
'That isn't going to happen. Just take me to bed, Roarke,' she suggested in little more than a whisper. It brought a glint to his eyes and a smile to his lips.
Releasing her, he swept her up into his arms with breathtaking ease. Automatically Ginny's arms slipped around his neck. 'Never let it be said I refused a lady anything,' he retorted in amusement, but as he carried her to the bed the laughter faded, driven away by a look of such intensity it hid a powerful need.
Despite that, he laid her on the bed with infinite gentleness, and when he joined her, seconds later, the hand that traced the line of her cheek and jaw, then carried on down to the tender cord of her neck and graceful curving shoulder, held the faintest tremor. He was holding himself in check by supreme self-control, and he touched her as if she was made of the finest glass.
It was amazingly arousing to watch him as he followed his hand's journey along the curves and planes of her body. His gaze was so intense as he enjoyed each new discovery, that Ginny felt as if she were being burned by a touch as light as a feather. She knew even then that she knew nothing about pleasure. That what she had experienced had been little more than fumbling in the dark. This was pleasure delivered by a man who knew there was more to making love than reaching the end as quickly as possible.