A soft moan trembled on the air and she realised that it had come from her. She had no more defence against his particular brand of lovemaking than that little fish in the stream had had against its determined captor, she thought. But she didn’t want to defend herself, or to resist him.
Knowing she was lost, she let her head drop back, her hair tumbling over his arm like a dark waterfall, while his thumb played over the small throbbing hollow at the base of her throat.
‘Was this part of that time?’ he breathed in a ragged whisper, bending his head again to press his lips against the jagged little white scar.
She nodded, reminded of the treatments and the surgery she had undergone to help her breathe—just to keep her alive—when the doctors had told her mother and her aunt that she probably wasn’t going to make it. Against all the odds she had, and it had given her a different outlook—a totally new perspective—on life. But all that was a world away from this man, and this evening, and the scented warmth of these exquisite moments. She didn’t want to dwell on anything that would spoil it for her.
When his mouth came down over hers she gave herself up to its demands, drowning beneath the kisses he had withheld. He was tugging her blouse down over her shoulders and she wriggled to get her arms free, bringing them up around his neck and clinging to him as though only his warm strength would sustain her.
* * *
As his hand closed over her breast and moulded her soft warmth to his palm, Andreas gave a deep groan of satisfaction.
Motherhood had made her breasts fuller, he noted appreciatively, letting his lips pursue the same path as his massaging hand. He heard her sharp gasp as his mouth closed over one dark-tipped nipple, and he smiled as he lifted his head to look at her.
She was lying across his arm with her eyes closed in total abandonment to her senses, the gentle curve of her forehead lined in rapturous agony, her long dark lashes splayed thickly against her cheeks. She was as enslaved by what he was doing to her as she had ever been, he realised gratifyingly, his hand measuring every soft curve and dip of the body that he knew so well and had long ago initiated as his.
He had mentally beaten himself up all the way back from his office because of what he had been thinking about her over the past few days. He had been ready to condemn her for a lifestyle of self-indulgence and self-seeking gratification when all the time she had undergone the worst physical, mental and emotional trauma it was possible for anyone to go through.
He had bellowed at his colleague when she’d asked if he thought Magenta was suitable to fill his PA’s shoes, when really he had been bellowing at Magenta for not telling him—and at himself for the detrimental thoughts he had harboured about her.
He regretted them now with every shred of humanity he had in him, and although he had assured himself that he would never allow himself to get emotionally involved with her again, right at this moment he couldn’t stop what was happening between them even if he wanted to.
‘Let’s go inside,’ he whispered.
Those three little words broke through Magenta’s sensual torpor, shocking her into realising what she was allowing to happen.
She was only here because he wanted to satisfy some warped sense of injustice. To get her to surrender to his mind-blowing ability to turn her on as no other man had ever turned her on. Really he had very little respect for her at all, and he would still despise her tomorrow.
‘No...’ It was a breathless protest as she struggled to sit up.
‘What’s wrong?’ His face was a compilation of bewildered lines.
‘I just don’t want to do this...’ Her own features were pained, yet still flushed with the desire that had nearly allowed her to fling all her hard-won self-respect and dignity to the winds. But at least he allowed her her freedom.
‘You could have fooled me.’ He was looking at her as though she had just pulled a rug from under his feet. There were wings of colour across his cheeks and his eyelids were still heavy from the strength of his desire.
‘I’m sorry. I got carried away. I thought I could, but I can’t. We might have had something going six years ago,’ she forced herself to say, with her agitated hands dealing with her blouse. ‘But we both know it was purely sexual. At least it was for me.’ It was taking all of her mental strength to reinforce what she had convinced him of—tried to convince herself of—all those years ago. ‘And I don’t go in for those kind of relationships any more.’
‘How very commendable of you,’ he said cynically.
‘No, just realistic,’ she corrected. ‘A lot has happened since then. I have responsibilities now, and they have to come first.’ Even though her body was still on fire from his love-play, and the thought of where that love-play could lead was driving her insane with wanting. ‘I know it probably isn’t the reason you gave me this job, but if you still want me working for you then we’re going to have to keep things purely on a business level.’