her eyes fluttering open, full of wonder and full of desire. Full of a hunger that he was only too happy to share and sate. His body moved over hers and he murmured her name, caressing her soft, slender body, parting her slackening thighs as her arms wound around his spine. She was whispering his name, drowning in his kisses...
This second time was as glorious as the first—each reaching their climax with a shuddering intensity that swept them away in the ultimate union, an absolute fusing of their bodies. And afterwards, hearts still thudding, breathing ragged, he held her against him, her body trembling in the aftermath of ecstasy.
With a hand that was not entirely steady he smoothed back her hair. He smiled at her, his eyes lambent. But there was a seriousness in his voice behind the smile. ‘You know this can’t just be one night?’
Her eyes searched his. ‘How can it be anything else?’
Her voice was troubled, and he needed to set her mind at rest. ‘Do you not see how special this is? This night is only the start of what we shall have together.’ He swooped a sudden kiss upon her mouth. ‘Come with me. Come with me today—straight away, this morning!’
For an instant that troubled look was in her eye, and then, as if consciously banished, it was gone.
‘Where to?’ she cried out, half in humour, half in an emotion he could not name.
‘Anywhere we want. Name somewhere you want to go. Anywhere at all.’
She laughed now, catching his eagerness. ‘The Caribbean!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve never been in all my life!’
‘Done!’ He gave an answering laugh. ‘Now all you have to do is choose the island.’ He rolled onto his back, wrapping one arm around her shoulders, the other across her flank. ‘There are a thousand to choose from—we can explore them all!’
He heard her laugh again, and then he was cradling her cheek with his hand.
‘Come with me.’ His voice was different now. Serious. Intense. ‘Come with me.’
His eyes met hers, held them. She was still gazing up at him, and the troubled look had found a home there once more.
Could she not believe that he was serious? That this was no idle banter?
He drifted his hand languorously across her silken flank and felt her stomach tauten at his sensuous touch. ‘Let me persuade you,’ he said huskily.
Emotion was welling up in him, as powerful as the desire building in him again. Words shaped in his mind.
I will not lose her—not now. I will not.
It was his last conscious thought as passion was rekindled between them, consuming all in its heat.
I will not lose her...
* * *
Luke stirred. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He reached out his arm, feeling only cold sheets. His eyes flared open, going immediately to the en suite bathroom door. It was standing open, no one inside. His eyes swept the room.
No Talia.
And no handbag, no shoes, no jacket, no dress. No discarded underwear slipped from her eager body as he’d taken her to his bed, to sate himself on her and change his life for ever...
No trace of her existence.
Except the note propped on the desk.
Face stark, he got up and walked towards it. Something was tightening around his guts, like a boa constrictor throwing its coils around him to crush the life from him.
Luke—I have to go. I didn’t want to wake you.
That was it. Nothing else. For a long moment he just stared at it as the breath was crushed from his lungs. Then, wordlessly, he screwed it up and dropped it into the bin.
He walked into the en suite bathroom refusing to feel a single emotion.
TALIA SAT IN the back of the taxi, staring at her phone. It was signalling a low battery, and she was glad of it in a cowardly way. Her brain was not working properly. It seemed to be split in two, and neither side would connect with the other. She was still with Luke, folded against his body, dreaming of Caribbean islands.
Islands to escape to...islands to set me free...
Free from what her eyes were forcing into her head as she reread her mother’s repeated pleading texts.
Darling, phone me! You must phone me. You absolutely must!
She could not face making the call. Yet fear was biting at her out of nowhere. Her mother had never sounded so desperate...
But before she phoned her she must get to her flat, set her phone to charge and then shower—wash Luke from her. And she must change into her day clothes—what she thought of as her prison clothes.
A shaft of anguish pierced her. She silenced it. She had to. There was no choice but to bury it way down deep. Her prison door had opened—but for a fleeting moment only. Now it was slammed shut again and that fear was biting at her.
Something was up. What could have made her mother so desperate?
The taxi driver pulled up at her apartment block and she paid him, clambering out on shaky limbs, bare feet crammed into high heels. She slipped the phone into her bag and hurried to the exterior doors of the block.
The doorman stepped towards her, holding up a hand. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Grantham, but I’ve orders to prevent anyone entering,’
She stopped short. Stared blankly. ‘Orders?’ she echoed, her voice blank.
‘Yes, miss,’ he said. ‘From the new owners.’
She tried to make sense of what he’d said. ‘Someone’s bought the block from Grantham’s?’ she said stupidly.
He shook his head, looking at her with a touch of sympathy. ‘No, miss. Someone’s bought Grantham’s—what’s left of it.’
* * *
Talia’s mother flung herself at her.
‘Oh, darling, thank God—thank God you’re here! Oh, what is happening? How did this happen?’
She was hysterical, and Talia was on the verge of hysteria herself.
How she had got herself from central London to her parents’ house she hardly knew. Her brain had simply ceased to function. Now, the only thing she could do, besides tightening her arms instinctively around her clingy, crying mother, was say, ‘Where’s Dad?’
Her mother threw back her head. Her hair was unstyled, her make-up absent—she looked years older than she did in the carefully presented image Talia was used to seeing.
