She wanted to say she didn’t share his confidence but was distracted by the feel of his finger on her skin. Instead, the contact between them was suddenly much more important, all heat and anticipation, and she stared into his eyes and saw that he wasn’t pulling her leg. He really did like her. Perhaps a lot.
Impulsively she planted a kiss on his lips. She’d meant it to be soft, a kiss of gratitude, but her mouth and body had other ideas. She gambled everything on this kiss.
Her mouth on his sent shock waves through his body, immobilising him. When he recovered, she’d pulled away again and was trying hard not to show how rejected she must have felt by his unresponsiveness.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It won’t happen again.’
‘It bloody well will.’ Dropping the shopping bag with the milk, he cradled her head in his hands and kissed her back.
A muffled protest at first. Then her lips became soft and warm beneath his, and she stopped pushing her hands against his chest, letting them wander around his waist instead.
He thought he understood why. She was so damned independent and so afraid of being hurt that it was easier to deny how she felt – how they both felt – rather than risking rejection.
Or maybe she just liked it a bit rough. The masterful male and all that. He smiled at his own stupid fantasy.
‘What’s so funny?’ she said. Her breath fanning against his cheek smelled just like she tasted, cool and fresh.
He brushed a strand of honey-coloured hair away from her face. ‘Nothing. I’m just glad this is happening.’
For a moment her eyes clouded over with suspicion, then she smiled. ‘Me too.’
They made love in Jason’s basement flat, kissing, stroking, and giggling in the muted light from his retro lava lamp. Fumbling with protection, delighting in each other’s bodies, kissing away tears of relief. Her eyes, not quite green, not brown either, and flecked with gold, held his as he moved over her, drinking him in and wrapping him in their warmth. Pupils widening as she came, cat-like smugness when, satiated and mellow, they finally lay still.
He thought, I’ll never get tired of looking into those eyes.
‘You’re so mine,’ he said. He’d never understood before, this need some people had to own another person, but now he did. He rolled off her and propped himself up on his elbow so he could continue looking at her.
‘Oh, yeah? How do you work that out?’ She raked a finger down his chest to his abdomen, sending ripples of renewed desire through him.
‘You just are.’
Her smug smile was replaced by a guarded look. ‘Your father—’
‘Has nothing to do with this.’
‘He won’t give up. He’ll push and push, and you’ll give in because he’s family. Family is important. I don’t want to get hurt.’
‘No one does.’ He sighed. ‘Listen, Helen, I can’t promise you that I’ll never upset you because it’ll probably happen once in a while even if I don’t mean to. But I can promise you this, it won’t be because of anything my dad says or does. Family is not everything, and when it comes to being dysfunctional, mine’s no better or worse than yours. We aren’t Romeo and Juliet.’
She smiled. ‘God forbid.’
He put his hand on her hip, savouring its female roundness. Helen was slim but not emaciated like some girls who thought they had to starve themselves to be beautiful, and his respect for her grew. She’d grown up without the support of a mother, or a father for that matter, but her sense of self seemed remarkably intact.
And despite her lack of formal education, she was very smart. If he told her what he’d found out about his father, she’d draw the same conclusions he had, that his father was somehow involved in her mother’s death, or at least knew more than he was letting on, not even to his own bodyguard. Helen would confront him, and then what? He needed to keep his father’s name out of it for as long as possible if he was ever to gain her complete trust.
He’d meant what he said that family wasn’t everything. But you still looked out for them.
They lay for a while, whispering, and when she fell asleep, he stayed awake for a while watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, her eyelashes casting impossibly long shadows over her cheeks in the low light. All that attitude of hers had melted away, and he felt a rush of affection, but resisted kissing her in case she woke up.
His father’s attack on her had worried him more than he’d let on. Derek had threatened Cathy but as far as Jason knew had never laid hands on her. This was different. Helen was more exposed, unless he stepped in and looked out for her. Except it was very unlikely she’d let him, so he had to do it in such a way that she didn’t realise it.