Sharon Kendrick Collection. Sharon Kendrick
and wild despair but determined to show neither emotion.
Guy took her to the theatre, and to concerts. He even skipped work on the Saturdays when she was off and they explored London together, like tourists.
And at night…
At night he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her. And it was really quite disturbing how one dark, sensual look levelled mockingly at her across the sitting room was enough to send her running straight into his arms.
While sometimes she despised herself for her instant surrender whenever he touched her, at least she had the comfort of knowing that it didn’t seem any different for him. She could reduce him to putty in her hands.
Why, she had even made him late for work this morning, and thrown his careful schedule into disarray. All because she had strolled into the bathroom one morning, wearing nothing but a pair of silver camiknickers while he’d been combing his hair.
Guy had stilled as he’d seen her reflection in the mirror, the pale swell of her breasts and the long curve of her legs beneath the frivolous lace trim. A pulse had begun to beat steadily at his temple.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked, in an odd kind of voice.
She batted him an innocent smile as she bent down to retrieve a book from where she’d been reading it in the bath the previous night while waiting for him to get back from Rome.
‘I forgot this,’ she said, and straightened up.
But the sight of the silver silk stretching tightly over her bottom had been enough to send his senses into overdrive. He put the comb down with a hand which wasn’t quite steady.
‘Kiss me goodbye,’ he ordered throatily.
She went into his arms without a word, and pressed her lips to his, feeling them part on a sigh to greet her. ‘Goodbye,’ she whispered, but she couldn’t resist moving her body closer and feeling the sudden responding tension in his.
His hand snaked around her waist, drawing her in closer still. He was painfully and erotically aware of her barely clothed state, even through the thickness of the suit he wore.
Trapped against his hard, virile body, Sabrina felt the warm pooling of a desire so strong that she couldn’t have resisted it if she had tried. And she certainly wasn’t trying.
‘I don’t want to be late,’ he ground out, but once again he drove his mouth down onto hers in a sweet, crushing kiss.
‘God forbid,’ she murmured, and flicked her tongue inside his mouth, hearing him groan in response.
‘Stop it, Sabrina,’ he pleaded, but only half-heartedly.
Caught up with longing and compelled by a need to shatter that rigid control, she moulded her breasts brazenly against his torso. ‘Stop what?’ she murmured, and allowed her fingers to trickle down over the rocky shaft of his erection, feeling him jerk in distracted response. ‘Do you want me to stop this?’ She ran her hand expertly over him. ‘Do you, Guy?’
A shudder ran through him as he felt her begin to unzip him. There would be no stopping now, he realised with a hot, heady rush of blood, and then his hands were on her breasts, feeling them spring into excited life beneath his hungry fingertips.
She struggled to free the zip and the trousers fell redundantly to his ankles. She heard him swear softly, and then, very deliberately, he moved the damp silk panel of her camiknickers aside and delved his fingers deep into the honeyed moistness. She gasped.
‘Do you like that?’ he murmured, feeling her thighs instantly parting for him. ‘Do you?’
Her response was instant and overwhelming. Sabrina swayed as she clasped his dark head against her, murmuring a protest she didn’t feel, her knees sagging weakly as she felt the swift heat of need. He lifted his head to glitter her a look of provocative assessment and swiftly turned her over so that she was bending over the bath.
He ripped her camiknickers off without compunction and let his silk boxer shorts fall to his ankles, and she realised that he was going to…going to…
‘Oh, Guy!’ she gasped ecstatically, as he entered her.
He groaned as he submerged himself in her hot, molten depths, thinking that it shouldn’t be this simple—or this out of control. And then he wasn’t doing any thinking at all. The world had shifted focus and then hardened, to a brighter focus, and now it splintered out of all recognition as they both cried out at the same time.
He pulled out of her and turned her around, thinking how shaken she looked. Well, hell, he was pretty shaken him self. When had he ever acted like that before? In Venice, he reminded himself grimly, that was when.
‘You’ve made me late for work,’ was all he said. Then he gave her a hard, crushing kiss before turning and swiftly walking out of the bathroom.
Flushed with orgasm, and a bitter kind of regret, Sabrina slammed the lock home behind him and then sank to her knees on the bathroom floor as dry, shuddering sobs began to tear at her throat. What on earth was happening to them?
As a demonstration of lust, that experience had been in a class of its own. Guy had used her for sex, but hadn’t she gone ahead and allowed herself to be used? She loved him, yes, but he’d never given any indication that he felt even a fraction of love for her. And she didn’t want to love again. Not like this. Bad enough that she’d loved and lost Michael—but at least Michael had felt the same way about her.
And she had known then with a sinking certainty that this one-sided love would bring her nothing but heartbreak. Far better to begin to distance herself. Starting from now.
It was late-night shopping this evening, and she’d make herself go browsing round after she’d finished work, deliberately make herself late home.
But Guy was even later. He’d had to juggle his day to include the missed meeting, and then had sat through it, bored and distracted, trying not to keep glancing down at his watch and thinking about Sabrina.
This was getting slightly ridiculous, he thought exasperatedly as he let himself into the flat. Going home at night had become the highlight of his day.
But tonight there was no meal cooking.
Just Sabrina sitting on the sofa, looking moody, an unopened book lying on her lap.
He dropped his briefcase and gave her a thoughtful look. ‘Hi,’ he said softly.
‘Hi.’
He thought how wooden her voice sounded. And maybe he deserved it. ‘Sabrina, listen—about this morning—’
‘No, Guy, please.’ She shook her head, her cheeks growing pink as shame vied with remembered pleasure. ‘It happened—let’s forget it.’
That was the trouble—he couldn’t forget it. It had been on his mind all day. And so had she. ‘I shouldn’t have been so abrupt with you afterwards.’
‘No, you shouldn’t!’ She threw him a furious look. ‘And maybe I shouldn’t have committed the terrible sin of wandering in looking like that when you were getting ready for work. How wicked of me to unwittingly throw temptation in your path, Guy! Heaven forbid that you should ever break your rigid routine and be late!’
‘Sabrina,’ he said softly, ‘are we going to fight about this all night?’
‘No, we aren’t.’ She drew a deep breath. They weren’t going to fight about anything and she was going to be very calm and grown-up about what she had to say. ‘We ought to talk about me going.’
He went very still, as though he hadn’t heard her properly. ‘Going?’ he echoed. ‘What are you talking about?’ His voice softened. ‘Aren’t you taking things a little too far, princess? I know what we did was pretty wham-bam-and-thank-you-ma’am, but there’s no need to overreact.’
‘This has nothing to do with this morning.’ But