Not Even for Love(16)

She squirmed and pushed against him. “Let me go,” she said through clenched teeth. “Don’t touch me again.”

The boatman approached them meekly and Reeves slowly disengaged his hands from her arms. She pivoted away, avoiding the boatman’s curious eyes as she picked up her purse. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Reeves sling his camera case over his shoulder.

As soon as she was helped to the quay by the boat’s pilot, Reeves leaped beside her and grabbed her arm again.

“I told you not to touch me,” she said, and tried to jerk her arm free. She could have spared herself the effort. Her strength was no match for his.

“No. I promised Helmut I’d see you to your door, and I never lie.” The veiled accusation wasn’t lost on her and she had a stinging rejoinder forming in her mind when he asked abruptly, “How in the hell do we get to your bookshop from here?”

He was determined to see her home. The best course of action was to go along with him. She nodded in the general direction and said, “Turn left at the second street.”

They walked in silence for several blocks as the streets soon narrowed and became the mazelike alleys where only foot traffic was permitted. Jordan stumbled behind his long, unfaltering strides. Her feet ached abominably, but she’d be damned before she would complain or ask him to slow down.

With relief she saw her shop as they came around the last corner. When they reached the door, Reeves let the strap of his camera case slide down his arm until the bag plopped to the ground. Before she could react, he had nailed her to the stone wall with the pressure of his own body. Her hands were held on either side of her face by his firm grip on her wrists.

“I have to hand it to you, Jordan. You’re quite an actress. Maybe you missed your calling.” His voice was deceptively soft, his breath warm and gently caressing against her cold cheeks. “Those wide gray eyes full of almost virginal timidity. Those sincere declarations that I’d been the only man since—” He broke off abruptly on a bitter note. He threw back his head and squeezed his eyes shut in an agonized expression. “God, what a fool I was,” he laughed mirthlessly.

Then his eyes were hard on her again. His face lowered until only a breath separated them. “I fell for your act hook, line, and sinker.” His eyes roamed over her face, taking in each feature, studying it. “And you’re still playing your charade,” he said huskily. “It’s really quite touching. The shine of tears in those damn gray eyes. The innocent expression. The trembling lips.”

The last words were lost as his mouth descended on hers and moved over it bruisingly. It was a blistering kiss, meant to hurt and debase. But when he felt no resistance, his plundering became persuasion. After only a heartbeat of hesitation, she parted her lips and welcomed the invasion of his tongue. Her wrists were suddenly released from their traps, but she only used that freedom to wrap her hands around his neck and delight in the feel of the hair that lay outside his collar.

He parted her cape and agilely slipped one hand inside. It caressed her waist, squeezing it slightly, appreciating its trim line. Then he moved closer, fitting his body to hers, aligning them in such a way that Jordan responded with a sensual adjustment of her own that took his breath.

Desire curled through her when she felt the strength of his virility through their clothes. Her tongue darted past his lips on a foray of its own. All the ugly accusations he had wrongly thrown at her melted under the heat of his kiss.

His hand stroked its way over her ribs and up to the curve of her breast. He kneaded it gently as his thumb lazily circled the rigid nipple under the silky fabric. He continued this heavenly torment as his lips pressed hot kisses into the curve of her shoulder left bare by her gown. His lips nibbled their way down her arm, pressed a kiss in the bend of her elbow, and then lifted her palm to receive a tribute from his mouth.

She reclined against the wall and sighed, touching his hair affectionately. Smiling up at him slumberously, she watched him as he turned her hand over. He looked at the diamond ring.

In a voice as hard and cold as the jewel he said, “You see, Jordan. The only thing that separates you from the girls who sell their wares on street corners is the price you demand.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. They were so out of context with the soft caresses and the soothing voice that their meaning eluded her. When it registered with her passion-fogged mind, she thought the pain in her chest would surely kill her. She would die with his scathing insult as her eulogy.

But the cold reality of what he had said jolted her out of her lethargy like an icy bath. He was still holding her left hand as he smiled down at her smugly. Her right hand arced and met his cheek in a resounding slap.