with relief, desire and heat rushing through him he drove into her.
At the warm, wet feel of her he let out a groan of pleasure, relief and who knew what else.
Lily moaned, dropped her head back but, honestly, he was too far gone to notice much what she was doing. All he could feel, and all he could think, was that he was in absolute heaven.
Then she moved and as heaven came that little bit closer Kit realised he was in deep trouble. Because he wanted to go slow, savour the moment, make sure that she was with him every step of the way, but it had been so long, so incredibly long, and if she didn’t hold still he’d lose what little control he had left.
‘Stop moving,’ he said roughly, his fingers digging into her thighs in an effort to hold her still.
‘I can’t help it,’ she whimpered.
As he gritted his teeth against the pressure she held on to him tighter, pressed herself closer. He could hear her breathing go haywire, could feel her tight around him, hear those little pants and he began to spin out of control.
‘Stop it now, Lily.’
‘No, it feels too good.’
She tilted her hips, pulled him in deeper and that triggered a primitive need in him he couldn’t begin to comprehend, let alone control. His head swam with the urge to take, to possess, to reclaim. His heart thundered and inside him there was simply too much urgency. Too much build-up. Too much everything, and his resistance collapsed beneath the sheer force of it.
His control now history, instinct took over and, with the sound of Lily’s whimpers and sobbing moans in his ear, he started blindly thrusting in and out of her, faster and harder, unable to stop or even slow down.
And just when the tightness gripping his lower body became unbearable, just when he thought he was about to implode beneath the pressure, or die from the intensity of the pleasure, he lost it.
With a great groan he erupted inside her, pulsating and spilling into her for what felt like for ever.
* * *
As hot sexual encounters went that one hadn’t quite delivered on its promise, thought Lily, her heart thumping, her breathing skittery and her body twitching and aching with unfulfilled desire while Kit collapsed against her.
But that was OK. She didn’t have to be up until seven and she had plenty of experience at recovering after burning the candle at both ends. Later she had a ten-hour plane ride during which she could catch up on sleep, and Kit spending the rest of the night making it up to her would be well worth any fatigue she suffered.
‘I’m sorry,’ Kit muttered, his voice muffled against her neck.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said softly, stroking the back of his neck and smiling at the thought of what was to come.
‘How could I not worry about it? That hasn’t happened to me since I was sixteen. I didn’t even take my coat off.’
A sense of pride surged up inside her at the memory of how keen he’d been. ‘Anyone would think it’s been a while.’
‘Anyone would be right.’
‘Really? How long?’ Surely it couldn’t rival the eighteen-month drought she’d had.
Not that she particularly wanted to think of him with a string of girlfriends, but the undeniable fact was that he was gorgeous, about to enter some rich list or another and, according to the gossip columns that she definitely didn’t read, single. A man like Kit wouldn’t lack company.
He sighed and her skin tingled beneath the warmth of his breath. ‘Five years.’
Lily stopped stroking his neck, frozen with astonishment. ‘What?’
‘Don’t make me repeat it.’
‘You haven’t had sex for five years?’
‘Not since our divorce.’
‘Truly?’
He grimaced. ‘You think it’s something I’d make up?’
It wasn’t. Who would?
And because it wasn’t and because of what it meant Lily felt instantly sick. Her blood went cold and her body went numb and her throat went tight.
Not because she’d weakened and let herself fall under Kit’s spell. And not because she was feeling twitchy with need and could feel him still hard inside her.
No. What was making her want to throw up, what was making her suddenly all shivery and achy and what was making her suddenly desperate to get him the hell out of her body and her house was the realisation that the last person he had had sex with before her just now must have been the woman he’d picked up at some work do while their marriage lay in ruins.
The knowledge triggered a deluge of memories. The devastation she’d felt when he’d told her what had happened. The excoriating hurt and agonising sense of betrayal. And then the pain and the disillusionment and the realisation that they really were over.
As the memories hit furious and fast she could feel a great wave of emotion begin to roll towards her, could feel herself about to break apart and she had to swallow hard to free her throat of the lump that had lodged there.
Unwinding her legs from around his waist, she shifted herself off him just as fast as she could. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have thrown away five years of protecting herself with such abandon? She’d fallen back into Kit’s arms without a care for herself. What the hell had she been thinking? How could she have resisted so little? How could she ever have imagined that they might be able to make another go of things? How could she have even wanted to?
Unable to look at him because God knew what he’d see in her eyes or on her face, she pulled her dress down and then used her fingers to smooth her tangled hair.
‘Lily?’ asked Kit, the concern in his voice showing that he’d sensed something had changed.
‘What?’ she said blankly, casting her gaze around the floor for her knickers and dimly aware that he was fixing his clothing and tucking his shirt into his jeans.
‘Are you all right?’
She bent down and swiped them up. ‘I’m fine.’
As she straightened he reached out to touch her face and she recoiled as if he’d struck her. Frowning, he pulled back and stared at her. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I think you’d better go.’
She needed space. Time. Privacy to examine the wounds, the scars of which had just been ripped off.
‘Not until you tell me what’s the matter.’
‘Nothing’s the matter,’ she said flatly. ‘You got what you wanted. Now go.’
He blanched at the bite of her tone. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t wait.’
As if that was what was
