felt his warm breath stir the soft tendrils of hair on the nape of her neck as he hooked his fingers into the back of her dress, easing it carefully away from her body.
He gave a quiet whistle. ‘You seem to have caught half the lining,’ he commented. ‘Maybe we should admit defeat and send for those scissors.’ He waited for a moment, then added. ‘Unless you really want me to try.’
She said, dry-mouthed, ‘Yes.’ And then, ‘Please.’
Realising for the first time, as she did so, exactly what she was inviting. And knowing with mingled shame and excitement that she would not change a thing.
It was sheer torment, she soon realised, to stand there feeling his cool fingers moving against her naked spine.
Although, admittedly, there was nothing remotely sexual in his touch. He was simply doing what he’d been asked, no more.
But the aching, quivering sensations inside her that seemed to be spreading to every nerve-ending she possessed told her that it was enough. Even—too much.
Hidden in the folds of her skirt, her hands were curling into fists, the nails scoring the soft palms as she fought to maintain the semblance of outward control.
Jake said, ‘Let’s see…’ Then, ‘Ah,’ on a note of quiet triumph as the zip moved down a little.
He added, ‘Can you hold your breath for me once more?’
She said, ‘No problem.’
Nor was it, she thought, because it gave her the perfect excuse to be breathless afterwards, for her voice to sound husky.
‘Right.’ He paused. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’
His hand was right inside her dress now, tugging at the imprisoned fabric, and she stood, braced and motionless, feeling the zip edging down little by little as he freed it.
He said, ‘That’s it,’ and the zip slid down unhampered to its fullest extent and Marin grabbed at the front of her dress to prevent that slipping too.
She should step away, she told herself. Thank him politely for his help, say goodnight and—part, closing the door between them.
Jake’s hands lifted, lightly clasping her bare shoulders, his thumbs smoothing her skin, tracing the delicate bone structure. He’d moved closer too, making her suddenly, startlingly conscious of the heat of his body against her exposed back.
Now was the moment to speak, she thought with a kind of desperation. To end this while it was still possible for her to do so. Before all that she was feeling—wanting—overwhelmed her.
Because she did not do things like this. It was a principle, a cornerstone of how she lived. Or was it simply that she had never before known real temptation? Real desire?
And now that she knew, her whole being was crying out for fulfilment by the man who had awakened her to fulfilment’s possibilities. Because this might be her only chance for it to happen.
One night, she thought, her mind suddenly reeling. One night. Oh God, is that really so much to ask?
His fingers brushed her hair away from her neck, and she felt his lips touch its tender nape, moving slowly—easily, on her skin. It was the lightest of pressures, like the brush of a butterfly’s wing, but it made her whole being shiver with instinctive, uncontrollable longing.
But as her back arched helplessly, achingly, in response, Jake took his hands from her shoulders, swiftly and deliberately setting her free again.
For an instant, she stood motionless, still holding the boned taffeta bodice over her breasts. Then her body’s urgency—need—took over and she let the dress slip down, baring her to the waist, then to the hips, until finally it slid to the floor and she stepped out of it.
She turned slowly to face him, her silk and lace briefs her only covering.
Jake looked back at her, his expression totally arrested, the lines of his cheekbones, his mouth and jaw sharply, even starkly delineated, the blue eyes burning.
He took an unsteady breath, then began to shake his head, his lips shaping a word she knew would be ‘No.’
With a little sob, she flung herself towards him, her entire body one desperate plea. As she pressed herself against him, the towelling robe grazed her hardening nipples, sending a sharp ache of longing coursing like wildfire through her veins. And deep within her she felt her muscles clench almost savagely.
Her arms reached up round his neck, drawing him down to her and to the first kiss she had ever offered him of her own accord.
His mouth found hers, exploring its trembling contours without haste. Possessing them, as one hand twined in the soft fall of her hair, letting it slide through his fingers as they kissed. The other hand clasped her hip, pulling her closer as his lips parted hers, his tongue delicately, sensuously probing her moist, inner sweetness.
He raised his head at last, looking down at her, turning her slightly so that she was leaning back in his arms as he planted a trail of kisses down the line of her neck and into the vulnerable hollows at its base, making her pulse leap and dance.
His hand found one soft breast and cupped it, teasing the awakened and quivering peak with a fingertip before taking the small, scented mound gently into his mouth and continuing the delicious torment with his tongue, forcing a gasp from her throat at this unaccustomed, bewildering delight.
At the same time, his hand strayed lightly down her slenderness, whispering over her skin, discovering without haste every slender curve, angle and hollow, and as he did so brushing away the last fragile barrier to his total exploration of her.
Marin swayed in his arms, eyes closed, her uncovered body totally pliant, the breath catching in her throat as his fingers reached her thighs, gently stroking the silken inner flesh before beginning a more intimate quest. A small stifled cry, half protest, half hunger, escaped her as for the first time in her life she experienced a man’s touch like cool gossamer against the scalding heat of her. Her body moved, lifting instinctively, helplessly in response to the subtle pressure of his caress, and she felt the melting rush of a desire as wanton as it was unfamiliar.
Her legs suddenly seemed unable to support her and she caught at the lapel of his robe, trying to steady herself, shocked at her unguarded flesh’s primitive reaction to its first real experience of carnality. To the sweet, languorous weakness which seemed to be invading her entire being.
Jake said her name, his own voice hardly more than a sigh as he picked her up in his arms and carried her into his room. To his bed.
She felt the softness of the pillows at her back, the crispness of the sheets against her skin. But as he began to take off his robe Marin turned away quickly, reaching for the switch of the single lamp glowing on the night table, her inherent shyness tightening her throat at the thought of seeing him naked, and in reality instead of imagination.
Of actually being with him naked.
But Jake was too quick for her, leaning across as he lay down beside her to capture her wrist and bring her hand back to his body, flattening it against his chest, the swift thud of his heart mirroring her own accelerated pulse rate.
He
