To Love Honour and Disobey(22)

He'd spent the whole night awake reliving those frantic moments in the  car when she'd ravished him. His heart still thundered with the  recollection, making the blood surge vitally through his veins. For the  first time in days he felt alive. Whereas she looked queasy. That made  him nervous.                       
       
           



       

'Why are you here?'

'Have you eaten?' He ignored her bald question. He'd deal with that once she had some sustenance.

She shook her head, looking pinched at the suggestion. He didn't think she'd had that much to drink at all. 'You should-'

'No, thanks, Seb.'

At the very least she was having a coffee. He went to the kitchen and started fiddling with Phil's espresso machine.

She sank onto the sofa and stared at the black boots on the floor in front of her. 'Why are you here?'

He sat next to her, tapped his finger on his knee and figured he might  as well get it over with. 'I don't know if you realise this, Ana, but we  didn't use a condom last night.'

To his intense surprise she laughed. 'Oh, don't worry about that.'

Don't worry about it? After what she'd been through?

She shook her head. 'I'm on the Pill, Seb. I'm fanatical about it.  Besides, I'm down one tube-there's less chance of a successful  pregnancy.'

Oh. OK. The Pill. Good. That was good. She was safe. And he didn't need  to feel as if there were needles being rammed in him all sides over.

But he did.

Less chance of a successful pregnancy.

Right.

The silence grew. He watched as she slowly shrank deeper into the sofa.  All of a sudden he knew he had to get out-and that he had to get her  out. To fresh air and salt water-to where he could clear his head and  she could hers. 'Come on, we're going for a drive.'

'I don't want to go for a drive.'

'Tough.'

It wasn't the result of too much alcohol making Ana feel queasy at all.  She'd only drunk a couple of glasses of bubbly. But she'd let Seb think  it was a hangover-that way she could explain away that hussy moment on  drink rather than desperate desire.

She'd thrown herself at him. Literally launched herself aboard and  stolen a ride. One that hadn't been enough. And that was what was really  making her sick. She still wanted more. One look at him in his jeans  and charcoal jersey and she was all warm mush inside and longing for  things neither of them wanted. Seb wasn't into for ever and she was  building her business-so she could build her life around that. And that  was why she had to do this now.

She had to stop seeing Seb.

Today was the day.

Yet somehow she was walking out with him. Feeling her cheeks flush as  she slid into his car. He lightened the drive with idle chat, chat and  more chat. It was amazing how he could keep a conversation going all by  himself.

'Are you still alive?'

OK, so he was clued into her quietness. She smiled. 'I'm enjoying your waffle.'

It wasn't all she enjoyed about him. And that was her problem, wasn't  it? It wasn't just the sex that she liked-she liked him all round. And,  knowing him the way she did now, she knew that was doubly dangerous for  her.

They finally arrived at the seaside. Walked for an age on the sand-not  speaking, just stretching legs and listening to the seagulls. Ordinarily  such exercise would soothe her. But she was too anxious for it to work  today.

'Let's get an ice cream.' He looked so vital-his face full of colour and humour.

'Seb, it's freezing.'

'Ice cream usually is.'

'No, I mean the weather.'

'But we're at the beach and when at the beach-'

'We need to stop this, Seb,' she said quickly.

He stopped talking and walking. Their eyes met.

'Last night-'

'Was a mistake.' She interrupted him again. 'We need to stop.'

She needed to stop.

She turned and walked back towards the car. There was nothing more to  say. Nothing more she could say because the side of her head was  suddenly pounding as if a hundred tribesmen were beating drums inside  it. She needed to close her eyes. She needed to lie down. Why was the  car so far away?

'Ana?' Seb's hand clasped round her upper arm as she swayed.

'I'm OK.'

'No, you're-' His curses made her head hurt more.

'Migraine. I've just got a migraine.' The pain intensified in seconds, ratcheting up to unbearable. 'Let's go. I want to go.'

Blindly she turned, screwing up her eyes to block the vicious light. His  other arm was at her waist, she felt him guide her, push her into the  car and felt him reach across to do up her belt.

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be silly.' He shut her door. In seconds he was in his seat; the  engine purred as he got them away. But the waves of agonising pain  worsened. She couldn't get air into her lungs. She breathed harder,  faster, but still it wouldn't work. Panicked, she felt the pain in her  head pulse with increasing fervour. Her mouth filled with  poisonous-tasting spit.                       
       
           



       

'Seb!' She warned him just in time.

He pulled over and she got the door open and leaned into the gutter. The sickness was violent and hideous.

She groaned, embarrassment adding to her overall vile feeling as she  felt his hand rubbing gentle circles over her back. But then the  pounding in her head resumed so badly she no longer cared.

'There are wet wipes in my bag,' she muttered. 'A little packet.'

'Wet wipes.' She heard the smile in his voice, then the rustling like  grenades detonating in her ears. Then she felt the coolness on her brow.

'I can do that.' She moved too fast and winced.

He pushed her hand away.

'Seb,' she whispered, now mortified.

Gently he turned her head towards him and smoothed the wipe over her  forehead and down. She opened her eyes, wanting to apologise, but his  expression was too tender for her to bear. She closed her eyes once  more.

He reached across and redid her belt. She leant her head against the  seat, unable to move at all. Even a fraction caused such throbbing pain.

It felt like for ever that they were driving but finally he switched off the engine. She opened her eyes and looked.

His house. Not Phil's.

'Come on, honey.' He had her door open, scooped her into his arms.

'Seb, you'll break your back.'

'Shut up.'

She did, burrowing her head into his broad chest, too sore to love the  fact that she was actually being carried like some feather-light  feminine princess. Mercifully soon they were on the second floor and in a  big bedroom and then into a room off that. He lowered her onto a chair.  She heard his footsteps sound on the tiles, a drawer slide open and  then close again.

'Ana.' He handed her a new toothbrush and a travelsized pack of  toothpaste and left her alone. He was always prepared for an overnight  guest, huh? But her head already hurt too much for her to add that to  it. And honestly she was just so grateful to be able to brush her teeth.

After she'd freshened up she slowly went back into the bedroom. He met  her halfway across the floor. Carefully he slipped the shirt over her  head, smoothly got rid of her trousers. The covering on the bed was  already pulled back and the curtains drawn. The sheets were cool, the  room dark. Shivering, she rolled onto her side, burying the blinding  side of her head into the pillow. The mattress depressed further. She  exhaled as he took the space beside her. But he said nothing, didn't  move more other than to put a gentle arm over her hip and cradle her  back against him. Slowly his warmth seeped into her. She felt sleep  start to claim her. The relief was immense.

When she woke she turned her head experimentally, felt the rush of  relief as she realised that the headache had gone. But even better than  that, he was curled around her-arms about her, his legs entwined,  keeping her warm with skin on skin. He was naked-and hiding nothing,  certainly not his hardness.

'Better?' His whisper was sweet in her ear.

'Yes.'

He rolled her to face him. She looked into his allserious eyes.

'We're not stopping,' he said quietly. 'Not yet.'

She tried to turn away, to slip from the bed, but he stopped her with the weight of his body and a kiss that stole her breath.

'Your migraine yesterday proves it,' he said when he finally lifted his head.

Yesterday? She'd slept through a whole night? 'Proves what?'

'That you're not ready to walk away just yet. That you're stressed about it.'

Of course she was stressed. And that was exactly why it had to stop. But  he didn't give her the chance to say it-his mouth caught hers again,  silencing them both for long moments.

'Listen to me,' he muttered. 'Look at me.' His hands moved, tormenting  with their slow caresses. 'If you don't look at me, I'll stop.'

What choice did she have? Silently she stared up at him.

'You have the most incredible legs. So long, so smooth, and up here-'  his fingers caressed the inner part of her thighs '-so soft.'

So what could she do but spread them further?

He smiled. 'And your breasts. Oh, your breasts.' He bent and took a nipple into his mouth-one then the other. 'So perfect.'

He shifted, settling his weight in place, kissing her again as she  melted around him. 'And here-' he slid home with a groan '-you have the  hottest place a man could ever hope to find.'