What was more, she was once again wearing the nightgown she’d discarded a few hours previously, she realised, touching the soft fabric with disbelieving hands.
As she sat up and looked round the room Cat experienced a curious sense of disorientation. Because there was simply no sign that the room had ever been occupied by anyone but herself. Even the pillow beside her was plumped up and pristine.
Had the events of last night simply been a figment of her imagination? A kind of wish fulfilment? Could she have only dreamed Liam, and the rapture she’d found with him?
No, she thought, her body quickening with excitement. That wasn’t possible. Her senses were still basking in the afterglow of his lovemaking.
And her last memory was breathing the scent of his skin as she lay with her head on his shoulder and her face turned towards the curve of his neck.
Broodingly, Cat drew her knees up to her chin, her mouth tightening.
Falling asleep in his arms had not been part of the plan—if, of course, she’d ever had a plan. Somewhere along the way she’d been hijacked, all her good intentions blown to the four winds.
But sharing her bed for an entire night had always seemed to her to be a dangerous step towards sharing her life. There was an ocean of trust implied in abandoning one’s consciousness in the presence of another person, and it was something she’d always avoided in the past, offering some light and credible excuse—she had an early start in the morning, or she was a poor and restless sleeper. Anything that would send them on their way and re-establish her privacy, her inviolability.
On the other hand, how did she know he’d spent the night with her? After all, she had no idea when he’d decided to leave, not when she’d been so dead to the world that he’d been able to dress her in her nightgown without waking her, for heaven’s sake.
She bit her lip hard. It seemed ridiculous to jib at that when there was not one inch of her body that he had not caressed and kissed with such passionate skill and artistry. When she’d not just accepted all the intimacies of their lovemaking but gloried in them. Yet somehow having her gown replaced when she was asleep and helpless seemed a familiarity too far.
However, it seemed unlikely she would ever be able to take him to task about it, she told herself. Because he was probably no more committed to the idea of a relationship than she was herself. And maybe the way he’d erased all signs of his presence was his version of goodbye, avoiding all excuses or explanations.
She’d set herself up, she thought with sudden bleakness, for a one-night stand. So she could hardly complain that Liam had taken advantage of that—and of her. Or that he’d walked away afterwards.
Cat bent forward, resting her forehead defeatedly on her knees and squeezing her eyes so tightly shut that they hurt. At the same time she was aware that no physical pain could even compete with the small, bewildered ache deep within her. Or the inexplicable sense of loss.
A sudden rap at the door had her shooting upright, her whole body tense, her mouth dry.
‘Who—who is it?’ she managed.
‘Room service, madam.’ A woman’s voice. ‘Your breakfast.’
A key rattled in the lock and she came in, middle-aged, brisk and efficient in a striped overall, carrying a tray. Swiftly she unfolded its supporting legs and placed the tray across Cat’s lap.
Cat, bewildered, was confronted by fresh orange juice, warm croissants in a basket, with dishes of honey and black cherry jam, and a tall pot of coffee. And a single red rose in a narrow crystal vase.
She hadn’t ordered any food, but maybe breakfast came with the room—and she couldn’t deny that she was hungry, she thought, as she thanked the woman with a smile and unfolded her napkin. Besides, she had the journey back to London ahead of her, and she had no wish to undertake it on an empty stomach.
Although there was nothing she could do about the strange void which seemed to have opened up inside her where her heart should be.
Don’t even think like that, she adjured herself with sudden fierceness. It’s irrelevant. You’re not looking for a soulmate but a lover, for the occasional night of mutual passion and fulfilment, and in that respect Liam could have been the answer to your prayer.
But he’s gone, so you’ll just have to forget the ‘might-havebeen’ and continue the search elsewhere—one of these days.
And, with a determined nod, Cat applied herself to her breakfast.
The meal over, she repacked her case, leaving out only a change of underwear and the clothes she’d worn the previous evening, then went into the bathroom to have a shower.
She stood for a while, eyes closed, under the powerful cascade, relishing its sting against her flesh, then reached for the soap.
But someone was there before her.
‘Allow me,’ Liam murmured, sliding warm arms around her and drawing her back against him.
Cat yelped, her heart banging against her ribcage in shock. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded raggedly as she started to breathe again.
‘I came to wish you good morning,’ he said, deftly taking the soap from her unresisting hand and making it into a lather. He began to apply it slowly and gently to her damp skin, making little circular movements, covering her breasts, belly and thighs with the creamy foam.
Cat felt an almost drugging weakness begin to invade her senses under his ministrations, and realised that if he hadn’t been holding her she would probably have slid limply to the floor of the shower.
‘But I’m not going to ask if you slept well, because I know you did,’ he added softly in her ear.
‘Yes.’ It was barely more than a croak. Her head fell back against his shoulder as the delicate movements of his hands shifted to a more intimate dimension.
‘But now…’ his lips found the sensitive spot beneath her ear ‘…now you’re awake again.’
Her only answer was a sigh, as Liam discarded the soap and began to caress her breasts, teasing the excited nipples with his fingertips. She could feel the pressure of his arousal, and moved against him with deliberate provocation.
His reaction was immediate. He turned her to face him, his mouth seeking hers hotly and without reserve, then lifted her in his arms and brought her down to him, his wet, slippery body joining effortlessly with hers in one swift act of possession.
Cat clung to him, mouth locked to his, her arms round his neck and her legs twined round his waist, her whole self attuned to the burning rhythm of his powerful thrusting. Her own response was ardent and complete.
When the first tiny tendrils of pleasure began to uncurl inside her she gasped against his lips, but as the sensations intensified, and she felt all control sliding away, she gave a small, frightened cry.
‘Don’t fight me, darling.’ He muttered the words hoarsely into her mouth. ‘Just—let go.’
The breath sobbed in her throat as she obeyed, and felt the first fierce shaft of ecstasy piercing her to the soul. She could hear herself moaning
