An Acute Attraction (10 page)

                Never once does he take his infernal green eyes off of mine;
forget the scotch and hand me the Chartreuse!
He gradually makes his way to me and taking a hold of my wrists, he lifts them above my head so that they are clamped tightly together, at the same time he dips his head so that he can nip at my ear. I inhale sharply at the pain, the incredible and scintillating pain. Yes, I want more! So I tilt my head to the side and he sucks hard on the lobe, enhancing the sensation. I moan deeply to notify him of the pleasure he is giving me as his mouth moves down to my neck. Letting go with one of his hands he grasps my breast and begins to manipulate the orb. 

                My voice becomes breathy, “Oh God Marc!” 

                His mouth travels lower to where his hand is and through the material of the dress Marc bites at a nipple. My breasts are already pushed up with my arms being where they are, so when Marc presses harder I cry out. Passion takes over us and the wanton need to be together is too much. Marc releases both of my hands so that he can reach behind me to unzip my dress and, then makes light work of taking it up and over my head. As inflamed strands of hair cascade over my shoulders, Marc takes a step back; this is the first time that he has had a chance to see the Basque and lingerie he bought for me. With wide eyes, just as fiery as the locks before him, he seems to scrutinize every part of my body.

            “I pictured what you might look like when I chose them, but never in my wildest dreams did I think you would look this sensational.” His sultry, dulcet tone washes over me; like the velvet melody of the saxophone.

            With the back of his hands he strokes my hair either side of my face, over my protrusive breast and descends down my waist until they come to rest on my wide hips. Purposefully he brings me to him so that I can feel the soft smattering of chest hair against me. In a tantalizing, teasing fashion Marc starts to unthread the back of my Basque and the cool air soon hits my skin; my spine tingles from both the touch of nature and Marc’s fingers. Disposing of the item on to the floor, I reach up to remove Marc’s shirt from off his buff, broad shoulders. Skimming my fingers across his smooth arms, I feel his muscles contract under my touch. With keen eyes Marc watches me sample his mellow skin, trailing kisses across his sculptured chest and stomach. I feel the weight of his gaze and looking up I witness the heavy lids of his eyes close.  

              Drawing me up, Marc holds my chin in his hand, “Isabel, I don’t know how or why, but you consume me from the inside out. No woman has ever had that effect on me before.”

               Bringing his sumptuous mouth down to mine, Marc settles me back on to the chaise lounge. From there wave after wave of pure carnal pleasure enfolds us and we are lost in each other for the remainder of the evening.

Chapter 8

                Waking up in Marc’s arms is one of the best feelings in the world. I am captivated while I watch him sleep soundly next to me and hearing his deep heavy breathing. However, the peace is soon disturbed when after a short while he starts to talk incoherently in his slumber. I am not able to make out any words as such, but he soon starts to get distressed. I have to back away slightly when an arm flails on to the mattress and Marc yells out causing him to wake. Perspiration has formed on his forehead and his breathing has become irregular, so taking him into my arms I try to soothe him. I whisper repeatedly that everything is Ok, brushing his damp dark hair back to help cool him down and I constantly remind him of where he is. A strong arm comes around my waist to pull me in tight, so I close my eyes at the contact hoping that my relaxed state will avail the situation. The last time I ever had to do this was with my youngest son Joseph after he’d had a nightmare and right now, I feel I have to calm another child down. It is upsetting to see anyone in this state, especially when it happens to someone you care about and developing strong feelings for.
I know, I know! I can hear my mum right now “Isabel Chambers, you’ve only known this man a few days!” but how often do we listen to our parents? Sorry mum.
Yes I care for Marc and hold him close, like this for a while.

                   A short time later, I am sitting on one of the sofas reading from my kindle, when Marc enters the room having had a shower and dressed. I can see he is still not quite with it, as his eyes have a glazed far away look about them. Unfortunately I don’t hold as good a superpower as he does at reading minds, but I guess I don’t have to, to know that something is troubling him. This is one of those situations though when I don’t know whether to ask him about it and if I did, whether he would want to talk to me about what lead up to this mornings nightmare. I put my book to one side so that then he knows I am willing to listen if he does decide he wants to talk to me about it. Soberly Marc takes a seat at my side and sitting back he rests an open hand down on my thigh. Leaning an elbow on the arm of the sofa, he massages his forehead and temple. My heart is going out to him, but I have to go at his pace. When he is ready I will be there to listen.

                “I seem to be apologising to you a lot recently.” Marc eyes me to the side as if he is ashamed of what happened and cannot look at me.

                  I lay my hand up on his. “You have got absolutely nothing to apologise for….this time.” I add at an attempt to bring a bit of levity into the conversation, as you never know it might just help him feel at ease. 

                “You are too good to me Isabel Chambers. Any other person probably would have run for the hills by now.” I hear the flippancy in what he is saying and so giving him a wink, I can’t help my reply.

                “I am not any other person though Mr Sanders.” 

                 Stretching an arm out over my shoulders, he playfully squeezes me. “I know you’re not Miss Chambers, which makes me all the more grateful and one incredibly lucky guy.”

                 Marc and I decide to eat breakfast together before I trundle off back to my room to freshen up. I have to giggle to myself as I’ve only slept one night in this room so far, and even so, I have to agree with my inner thoughts that it has still been money well spent. I shower, dress and am just straightening my hair when I’m surprised to hear the phone in my room ring. 

                 “Hello.”

                 “Good morning Miss Chambers. I have a call to put through to you from a Dr Acerbi.” The receptionist struggles with the pronunciation, yet still manages to sound sprightly, which right now is in complete contrast to how I am feeling. 

                  “Hello, Miss Chambers are you still there?” 

                  “Erm! Yes sorry, you can put her through.” Hearing the phone click, I suddenly have a bout of nausea.

                  “Morning Isabel, I do hope I haven’t disrupted anything you may have been busy doing.”

                    The emphasis she puts on the word “disrupted” makes me think that she was hoping for the exact opposite. Gathering a hold of my nerves, I try not to let her ramifying manner get the better of me. 

                  “No not at all. How may I help you Dr Acerbi?”

                  “I am sorry to call you but I do feel that you and I have, how do you say it? We got off on the wrong foot.” Her Italian accent is strong, but if that was meant to be an apology, although I doubt very much that Dr Emeliana Acerbi does real apologies, there certainly wasn’t any hint of remorse, more gratification and therefore a pathetic attempt at one. All the same I nonchalantly reply,

              “No need to apologise Doctor, I hadn’t really noticed.” Hoping that she wouldn’t see the lie in the sentence I continue quickly. 

              “You are in the UK for work; I doubt very much you were here to make pen pals.”

                Hearing her clear her throat a sense of satisfaction swells over me, as somehow I don’t think she is getting the response she was quite expecting.
Well tough do do
! Taking a breath, I congratulate myself.

               “No you are right Isabel.” My body stiffens as my first name rolls off her tongue. 

               “I would however like to make it up to you. I am free for lunch and I was just erm! Inquisitore….ah!....Wanting to ask if we could meet at a café, to start again, afresh if you like.”

                I will give her credit for her optimism and I am thinking that maybe I ought to give her a second chance. She might actually be able to shed some light on as to what happened last night at the dinner. I don’t have anything important planned for today; Marc has to go back to the College for follow up sessions after yesterday and I was only planning on going into a town a few miles away. The place is farther away from Cambridge, but if she wants to see me she can make the journey; so I agree to the meeting and we set a time and venue.

              Clare is a quaint little town in Suffolk which boasts a ton of history; most of it fascinating, hence why I was going to visit. A medieval town church, a 13
th
century Augustinian priory and castle ruins that date back to William the Conqueror are just a few of the sights that bring in the tourists. Dr Acerbi and I arranged to meet in a pub opposite the few shops that line the main street of the town, but now as I sit with a large glass of wine in front of me, I start to regret my decision to do this. I saw Marc’s reaction to her last night, what if he knew about this? Should I tell him? If I don’t, will she tell him anyway? Questions, questions, questions!!
For God sake Chambers, you came away to chill why are you putting yourself through this?
The answer to that last one is easy, because of Marc. 

               It doesn’t take long before I see her walk in. I instinctively sit up straight in the hope that I look more confident and brave than I really feel inside. Taking just a few strides with her long shapely legs, she approaches the table and takes a seat on the high backed chair opposite me.

             “Thank you for meeting with me Isabel, I very much appreciate it. May I buy you a drink?”

             “No I’m fine thank you; I will only be having the one.” I surmise that Dr Acerbi is an intelligent woman and so will get the hint that I am not expecting to stay any length of time with her.

             “Very well, please excuse me while I get myself one.”
Oh yes, she got the hint.
 

               Usually when I get nervous I tear at the beer mats that are placed on the tables, so making sure the only one’s on our table are what we will be using, I collect the remaining one’s and plonk them down on the shelf behind me. On her return, Emelie wastes no time at all.

              “You and Marc seem to be getting along extremely well I see.”
Whoa!
She doesn’t hold back in what she wants to say. Ok, come on Chambers, you can do this. I will not let her manipulate the conversation.

              “Yes, he’s been a great companion over the last couple of days and we have enjoyed the time we’ve spent together.” I can honestly say that I speak the truth, for the both of us.

                The Doctor nods, “Has Marc told you much about himself, his work and family?” 

                I am not quite sure where she is going with this or what it has to do with her, what Marc and I talk about, but I’m desperately trying to rack my brains of how I can tell her that it is none of her business, in as a non-offensive way as possible. Nope, I’m afraid I can’t.