Savage Awakening(25)

'Sit down,' he said now, indicating one of the sofas, disappearing out the door again before she could answer him.

But Fliss was too much on edge to relax. Instead, she drifted over to  the windows, peering out for a minute before a glimpse of her reflection  in one of the long mirrors that hung beside the fireplace caught her  attention.

She stared in disgust at the image that confronted her. She might not go  brown but her skin did burn easily, and right now her face was as red  as a tomato. It clashed vividly with her hair, and with the delicate  pink of her T-shirt and trousers. Which only added to the feelings of  inadequacy that had plagued her on the way home.

She was still staring broodingly at her reflection when Matt's image  appeared behind her. He'd evidently dumped the sports bag that had  contained his towel but he hadn't yet changed his clothes.

Though why should he? she thought bitterly. Even in creased shorts he  looked like a big, sleek cat, watchful and vaguely predatory.

Fliss would have moved away from the mirror then but his solid bulk  behind her prevented a graceful retreat. Besides, there was no point in  pretending she hadn't been looking at herself. He already knew she had.

Something of how she was feeling must have shown in her expression,  because he said, 'What's wrong?' in a rough, sympathetic tone that made  her want to confide in him.

'Need you ask?' she cried, indicating her face. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'What? That you look as if you've had a fun day in the sun?' he asked  gently. His warm breath stirred the hair at her nape. 'Stop beating up  on yourself. You look OK to me.'

'That's because you're not looking at me like-like a man looks at a  woman,' she retorted, wondering if she'd have been as brave if she'd  been facing him. Talking to his mirror image was different somehow,  although his sudden scowl did make her wish she hadn't said anything.

'How am I looking at you?' he asked now in a dangerously soft voice, and  she shifted a little uneasily beneath his narrow-eyed gaze.                       
       
           



       

'You know,' she protested helplessly. Then, because he was evidently  expecting something more, 'I think you like me but-well, you're not  attracted to me.'

'And you know this how?'

'Oh … ' She shook her head, but, when she would have moved away from the  mirror, his hand on her shoulder kept her where she was. She sighed.  'Does it matter?' Then, the lie almost sticking in her throat, 'Anyway,  I'm not attracted to you either.'

'No?'

Oh, God, had he sensed how she was feeling? 'No!'

'I see.'

He seemed to be digesting this, but he didn't remove his hand from her  shoulder. Instead she watched, transfixed, as one finger probed the  scooped neckline of her shirt while his other hand curved almost  experimentally about her bare midriff.

Everywhere he touched her skin bloomed with heat, competing with her hot  face for precedence. His hands were cool and dry, but they burned her  flesh, setting off tiny electric shocks throughout her body.

Through the haze of need he was inspiring in her, Fliss managed to find  her voice. 'Why don't you go and get changed?' she said, hoping he would  take the hint and stop tormenting her. Because that was what he was  doing. She was sure of it. This was his way of proving that she'd been  lying when she'd said she wasn't attracted to him.

'Why?' he asked, dipping his head so that she was forced to meet his eyes in the mirror. 'Do I smell?'

Oh, yeah. Fliss swallowed the catch in her throat. He smelled of salt  and warmth and sun-dried skin overlaid with a tantalising aroma of raw  male virility. The man was testosterone on legs and he must know it.

'Look, perhaps I ought to go and wake Amy,' she said, hoping the  introduction of her daughter's name might bring a touch of sanity to the  proceedings. 'She'll never sleep tonight.'

'Nor will I,' said Matt in that low, hoarse voice that never failed to  stir her senses. He moved his head and the scratch of stubble on his  jawline grazed her neck. 'But don't let that worry you.'

Fliss's whole body felt hot now, hot and alive and pulsing with need.  When his hips brushed against hers, she felt an urgent desire to push  herself against him. But what would she do if she discovered he was as  aroused as she was? She had no experience in playing the seductress.

In any case, it would never happen, she assured herself grimly. Whatever  game he was playing, he would never let it go that far. Teasing her,  tempting her, that was his objective. He wanted her to know what she was  missing in her life. As if she didn't know that already.

Then his tongue traced the taut cord in her neck below her ear,  following it down to where it expanded to meet her shoulder, and her  stomach contracted. Standing in front of the mirror, she could see  clearly what he was doing, and, when his lids lifted so that she could  see his eyes, her breath caught in her throat.

'Wh-why are you doing this?'

Matt's tongue circled his lips for a moment before replying. 'Don't you  like it?' he asked huskily, and Fliss thought no woman in her right mind  would say no.

'That's-not the point,' she said, watching him as his fingers splayed  possessively over her stomach, his thumb probing the sensitive hollow of  her navel. 'You-you shouldn't.'

'Probably not,' he agreed after a moment, his voice muffled as his lips  replaced his tongue. 'But you sure do taste good. I'd forgotten how good  a real woman could taste.'

Yeah, right. Fliss didn't believe that for a moment. Whatever lies Diane  may have told about their relationship, she was still involved with  him. It had been obvious from her attitude that she considered him her  property, and the reason for that wasn't hard to understand.

'Matt, please … ' Fliss whispered now, hardly recognising the pleading  tone of her own voice. She sounded almost wanton, she thought, all  yielding allure and sensual appeal. Whatever guilt she felt about Diane,  she wasn't above ignoring it if it suited her. But, heaven help her,  this was never likely to happen to her again.                       
       
           



       

The urge to tip her head back against his shoulder was almost  irresistible. He was so close, she could feel the heat coming off his  body in waves. She would have had to be totally numb to remain immune to  it, and because her eyes were continually drawn to the mirror, she  could view what Matt was doing to her with a curious detachment.

Not that that made it any less erotic. When Matt's eyes met hers again,  she felt as if her breathing had been suspended. Still watching her, he  deliberately bit her neck and drew the soft flesh into his mouth.  Sucking on it greedily, he continued to impale her with his gaze.

His action inflamed Fliss's senses and her knees wobbled. Dear God, did  he realise what he was doing to her? Did he know she was finding it very  hard to stay in control? His hand had left her shoulder now and was  sliding seductively over her ribcage. His knuckles grazed her nipple,  causing another debilitating surge of heat, and she fought back the moan  of pleasure that threatened to betray her.

Her breasts were tingling, both nipples clearly defined against her  cotton shirt. She was wearing a bra, but its lacy cups offered little  protection, and when Matt's eyes were drawn to them wetness pooled  between her legs.

Her eyes closed almost instinctively. She'd had no experience of Matt's  kind of lovemaking and she didn't want to see she was making a complete  fool of herself. He hadn't even kissed her yet and she was already  anticipating how that would feel. She wanted-oh, lord, she didn't know  exactly what she wanted. But the image of Matt's bed with its tumbled  sheets went some way to supplying an answer.

'Open your eyes,' he said, his mouth against her ear, and her lids  lifted obediently. 'That's better,' he murmured, the tips of his fingers  slipping beneath the hem of her T-shirt. 'It's more fun if you're  watching me.'

Fun? Fliss sucked in a breath. Is that what he thought this was? Didn't  he know that every nerve in her body was screaming with need?

There were daisy buttons on the front of her trousers instead of a zip  and her breathing suspended completely when Matt changed direction, his  fingers tiptoeing from one button to the other on a direct path to her  crotch. He didn't open the buttons. He didn't have to. Fliss was ahead  of him, and when he reached the junction of her legs and cupped her in  his hand, she almost climaxed there and then.

But it couldn't go on. If Amy woke up and came looking for them … Well,  that didn't bear thinking about. Grabbing his hand with both of hers,  she pushed it away.

'Don't,' she said abruptly. 'We can't do this.'

'Can't we?' He lifted his head and regarded her with dark enquiry. 'I thought we were.'

'You don't understand. Amy could wake up.'

'I know that.'