his head to her breast.
‘Oh, please…’ It came out as a shuddering protest against the insidiously sweet torture of his mouth.
Eyes shuttered, hair spread like fiery silk across the pillow, she waited tensely as he moved. If only he would end it now—get it over with before her body betrayed her…
‘Look at me.’
His imperative tone broke through her silent struggle. His eyes were a deep, inky blue. His usually groomed hair was ruffled, his features impassioned, and the skin over those prominent cheekbones was taut, flushed with need.
‘Are you always so uptight when you’re making love? What does a man have to do to relax you? Show me what you want.’ His voice seemed to shudder from within the deep wall of his chest. ‘What is it you want? Show me, Nadine.’
You! She censored the thought from her brain before it could take shape. She had no right to think it! No right at all! But the burn of his lips across the flat plane of her stomach and the deep persuasion of his voice were robbing her of her last vestige of control. Her need seemed to explode inside her, shattering her restraint into fragments, galvanising her into a sobbing, writhing surrender that she couldn’t have kept from him any longer any more than she could have flown.
I’m sorry, Lisa! The thought was blown away like dust in the wind as she succumbed to the forces of a passion matched only by the force and power of the man who was suddenly moving, claiming her, unlocking the mysteries of her body.
Desire swamped her like a violent storm so that she knew only a sweet pleasure and a sudden pain—pain, brief and sharp—before the consuming, spiralling ecstasy of his possession.
When he rolled away from her some time afterwards, got up without saying a word, Nadine eased herself up on an elbow, half-afraid to look at him. Was he angry? Shocked—as she was—by that tempestuous and involuntary response?
The soft lights from the dressing-table threw a warm glow over his magnificent nakedness and she glanced away, embarrassed by her shameless surrender to it as he shrugged into a white towelling robe.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were…That I’d be the first?’ He sounded puzzled, mildly censuring.
‘I didn’t think it was important,’ she responded, with a little shrug. She couldn’t tell him that she had been embarrassed about that, too.
‘Maybe not to anyone else, but I would have thought where you were concerned it might have been.’
His eyes were hard and penetrating. Trying to see through her, she thought shudderingly, suddenly vibrantly conscious of how she must look in the aftermath of their lovemaking—skin flushed and dewy, hair wild and damp with perspiration. But at least he didn’t appear to have guessed the truth.
‘What makes a girl sacrifice something so rare and precious simply for money? And don’t tell me it wasn’t, because if that was the case you’d probably have relinquished it long ago.’
Nadine’s shoulders stiffened. ‘That’s insulting.’
‘It wasn’t meant to be.’
‘No?’ Her chin came up, nostrils dilated with wounded anger. She couldn’t forget how opposed he had been to Lisa’s suggestion of surrogate motherhood in the beginning. Lisa had had to beg him until he’d finally given in. She wasn’t sure, but she guessed what he probably thought about women who accepted payment in exchange for a child—about her, Nadine Kendall—and that frenzied response to him just now wouldn’t have helped to change his opinion in any way.
‘What I mean is that you’re a very beautiful girl.’ He opened the mini-fridge, took out a bottle of chilled water. ‘Don’t try and tell me that a lot of men haven’t tried to seduce you.’
‘No…I mean…some.’
So he wasn’t immune to her femininity, even if he had always displayed no more than a cool imperviousness towards her. After all, she was Lisa’s friend, not his. As for involvements, even if she had met a man who had been able to rid her of this mindless infatuation with Cameron, she would have had no desire to rush into one with her eyes closed. A serious relationship—which was all she would settle for—needed to be right. She’d seen from the break-up of her parents’ marriage how devastating and painful a mistake could be.
She heard the still water tumble into a glass, her gaze following the strong line of his throat as he took a long draught before offering her some. She shook her head.
‘The main reasons for sacrificing one’s virginity are usually love, passion, or just plain and simple curiosity. So what makes you different, Nadine? Why has the importance of money suddenly triumphed over the other three?’
His gaze was too intense and she looked away, like a witness with a guilty secret to hide, plagued not only by her reckless emotions but also by the memory of her mother’s pinched features, her laboured breathing; by her desperate plea when she’d failed to talk Nadine out of paying for her treatment.
‘Don’t tell anyone what I’m having done—how serious this is. I couldn’t bear to be thought of as an invalid.’
She ventured a look at Cameron. He had a reputation in court for being pitiless. Yet even he would feel some, she thought, if she told him about the heart condition that was threatening her mother’s life. Only a by-pass operation could offer her the chance of recovery, but the scheduled surgery had been postponed because of the ever-increasing cut-backs in the Health Service, and Nadine had had to watch, helpless, as her mother’s health gradually deteriorated, aware that even the simplest task now made her breathless and fatigued.
Yes, somehow she felt he’d understand. Only she couldn’t go back on the promise she had made to her mother. And not only that, Lisa had been her friend since childhood—had known both her parents—and if it ever got back to Dawn Kendall how she, Nadine, was financing her forthcoming operation…
Inwardly, she shuddered. Even with the payment Cameron had already made to her she’d met enough maternal objection when she’d let her mother believe she was simply using her savings to help meet the hospital’s fees. But if she ever discovered the truth…
‘Does there have to be a reason, m’lud?’ she parried lightly in response to his query about sacrificing herself. And in a desperate bid to keep her secret—change the subject—with a nervous little laugh she uttered flippantly, ‘Any more questions for the defence?’
Those shrewd eyes narrowed speculatively as he put down his glass. ‘I’m not a lord.’ Unpretentiously he drew attention to the way she had addressed him. ‘And certainly not a judge—yours or anybody else’s.’
But he was, she thought, sensing the assessment going on inside that brilliant brain. Fear was leaping through her—fear of another shaming submission and of the threat to her emotions that she neither wanted nor welcomed—as he slipped off his robe and, sliding back into bed with her, said with meaningful softness, ‘And no, there’ll be no more questions.’
Unusually edgy, Nadine started as the phone rang in the little Dickensian office.
‘Hi! It’s me. I thought I’d be back earlier than this but the car had other ideas.’
