running into the tub had stopped a few moments ago. By this time he would be in the bath.
And he knew so much about her, while her information about him was practically nil. She realised, of course, that he must be wealthy, but, oddly, that was the fact that interested her least.
There had to be clues in his pockets—his driving licence—his wallet. It wasn’t a very honest and upright thing to do, perhaps, but, after all, he’d wheedled her name and address out of the hotel. Quid pro quo, she told herself.
There was no driving licence, but his wallet was in his inside pocket. She withdrew it deftly and began to look through it, searching for credit cards, business cards—anything that would tell her about him.
Just his name, she placated the god of sneaks. And maybe what he does for a living. That’s all I want to know.
But she was to be disappointed. His wallet contained about a hundred pounds in cash, but no cards of any kind. Nothing that contained even a hint about his identity. Except, she realised, something that had become wedged in one of the small inner pockets. She retrieved it after a brief struggle, and saw it was a photograph, upside down.
His wife? she thought, staring down at it, reluctant to turn it over. His fiancée? His girlfriend? Whoever it was, he kept it well-hidden.
She would soon be running out of time, she thought, forcing herself to examine it. And if it was a woman she would only have herself to blame.
But it was a dog—a springer spaniel with an infectious grin—which looked back at her, and Cat cursed under her breath as she forced the snapshot back into its place and returned the wallet to his jacket.
Well, that was a total waste of time, she thought as she carried his Scotch into the bathroom, her skirts rustling around her.
Liam was lying back in the bath. His eyes were closed, but the almost haggard look she’d noticed earlier was beginning to fade.
She stood watching him for a moment, feeling her heart twist within her, then said quietly, ‘I’ve brought your drink.’
He stirred, stretching a little, then sat up. ‘Thank you.’ He took the tumbler from her hand and placed it on the small table beside the bath. He surveyed her meditatively. ‘Would you care to join me?’
She said, ‘Thank you, but I don’t drink whisky.’
‘And that,’ he said gently, ‘is not what I meant—as I’m sure you know,’ he added, his eyes glinting with amusement.
‘Well.’ A smile trembled on her lips in reply. ‘Perhaps so.’ And her hands went to the first tiny button on her bodice.
‘No.’ His voice was soft, but incisive. ‘Leave it on. I want you just as you are. Or have you forgotten?’
She halted, staring at him, then down at herself. ‘No, but my housecoat—it will be ruined.’
He leaned back, picking up the tumbler beside him and swallowing some of its contents. ‘But in a very good cause. Besides, it would never have had the same effect a second time,’ he added, his smile widening into a grin.
‘Well…’ Cat pretended to consider. ‘Probably not.’ She climbed sedately into the bath and settled herself at the opposite end, arranging her sodden skirts around her and trying not to laugh. ‘Your mood certainly has improved.’
‘And that’s not the only area of improvement, I promise,’ he said, his eyes dancing wickedly. He put down his glass and leaned forward, drawing her closer to him. He kissed her, his mouth moving on hers gently and sensuously, and her lips parted on a sigh to allow him deeper access. When he lifted his head at last they were both breathless, both trembling.
With infinite tenderness Liam’s hand smoothed the silky strands of hair back from her face, then travelled slowly down the line of her throat, and lower to the waiting row of buttons. He began to release them one by one, slowly and gently, his gaze intent.
Cat was very still, her breathing still ragged, her clouded eyes widening as he slowly uncovered her. Her nipples were hardening uncontrollably against the soft brush of the silk, the sweet hidden depths of her womanhood aching for his possession.
As the last button gave way Liam pushed aside the loosened edges of the robe with a sharp indrawn breath, his eyes feasting on her with a hunger he did not bother to hide.
‘You are loveliness itself.’ His voice was husky, and a little strained.
She smiled at him as she shrugged the robe from her shoulders, freed her arms from the damp cling of the sleeves and let the ruined silk slide down into the water.
She moved closer to him, lifting herself on to her knees and straddling his thighs, her hands gripping his shoulders. She leaned forward, letting her mouth brush his, swiftly, teasingly.
With one hand she stroked the side of his throat, feeling the race of the strong pulse at its base.
Then, with her free hand, she began to touch herself lightly and pleasurably, in deliberate incitement, letting her fingers brush the dark rose peaks of her breasts then slide down to her belly, and the soft curls at the parting of her thighs. Hearing him groan softly in response as he watched her almost mesmerised.
She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him again, running her tongue softly along the inner fullness of his lower lip. Then she bent her head, licking his hot, flat nipples with the point of her tongue, while her hands strayed downwards, exploring the strength of his arousal with delicate greed.
Liam’s arm circled her, supporting her spine like an iron bar as she leaned backwards, her eyes half closed, her fingers holding him, guiding him to her secret threshold. And as he entered her her body opened for him like a flower.
It was no leisurely possession. Their mutual need was too forceful—too driven for that. Her body echoed his thrusts almost frantically. She could already feel the spiral inside her uncoiling, carrying her upwards to rapturous oblivion.
‘Is it safe?’ The urgent words rasped from his throat.
Panting, wordless, she nodded, her hands gripping his shoulders, the only reality in a disintegrating world.
His hand slid down between them, seeking and finding her tiny hidden bud, coaxing it to an almost painful tumescence with the tips of his fingers. Taking her to the edge, and then, suddenly, beyond it.
She heard herself cry out in a cracked voice, her body shuddering violently as the spasms of pleasure engulfed her, and heard him answer, the sound torn from him. ‘Catherine.’
She felt herself collapse against him, lay wrapped in his arms, the surge of her heartbeat mingling with his.
‘This water’s getting cold,’ Liam murmured into her ear eventually. ‘Why don’t we go to bed?’
She smiled against his skin. ‘Why don’t we, indeed? Oh, God,’ she added as they slowly disentangled themselves. ‘Have you seen the state of the floor?’
‘Yes.’ He was laughing as he helped her out of the bath. ‘Careful you don’t slip.’ He took one of the towels from the rail and began to dry her, patting her skin gently.
She
