The Japanese Screen. Anne Mather
thumb moving probingly against her lips, caressing them, parting them. Then he bent his head and put his mouth to those parted lips, kissing her gently, exploringly, until something seemed to fuse between them and he could no longer deny his need of her. His hand slid down to her throat, and the pressure of his mouth became an urgent force that impelled her back against the soft upholstery.
‘Te deseo, Susannah, de mi alma,’ he whispered, releasing her lips to seek the hollow between her breasts. ‘Forgive me, forgive me, but I cannot help myself—’
Susannah’s hands came up around his neck, curling into the thick vitality of his hair. She drew his mouth back to hers, returning his kisses with innocent abandon, and not until he dragged himself away from her to slump heavily over the steering wheel did she realize that she had been behaving in a manner tantamount to begging him to make love to her.
With shaking fingers she gathered up her cape, fumbled the door open and stumbled out, slamming it behind her. Then she ran across the pavement and up the steps and into the Castana house. She could hear sounds of music from the drawing-room, but there was no one about, and she ran weakly up the stairs, not stopping until she had reached the safety of her own room. Then she alowed the cape to fall to the floor and threw herself upon her bed to sob uncontrollably …
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