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Authors: Kim Lawrence

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BOOK: An Innocent Affair
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It had been stimulating, verbally sparring with him, and
wallop!
He'd had to go and spoil it. ‘Why not just get straight to the point, Alex? Don't start being squeamish now, ask me outright if I often sleep with married men!'

‘Actually, I was thinking of offering to dig my old leathers out of mothballs.'

The breath escaped from her lungs in a soundless gasp. The message in his eyes would have been impossible to misinterpret. ‘That wouldn't be necessary,' she said huskily. ‘I've never met anyone as attractive as you.' That's it, Hope, she congratulated herself. Play hard to get, why don't you?

‘They probably wouldn't fit anyway. I've developed a bit since those days.'

‘I can imagine,' she croaked hoarsely. She
had
imagined, in some detail. The heat crawled over her skin as her rampant imagination did its worst.

‘I'm older than you.'

‘I'm prettier than you.'

‘Granted…' The humour that twitched his lips didn't reach his eyes. They were intent, purposeful and dark. They said things that made dark wings flutter deep in her belly.

‘We could keep this up all night.'

This time the humour did reach his eyes. ‘That could be a mite optimistic.'

She flushed at this crude witticism. ‘About Lloyd…' Now was probably the time to explain about the Lloyd situation, before things got out of hand.

‘We've all done things we regret, Hope.'

‘You don't understand, Alex…' she said urgently.

He moved from his side of the table and came towards her. ‘I understand,' he growled. ‘I understand I want you so badly I can't think straight.' He drew her to her feet, or rather foot, and his hands about her waist pulled her hard against him.

Hope leaned heavily against him, allowing his body to support her weight. There was no question that he didn't have the strength. His fingers pushed into the thick luxuriant mesh of her hair and her eyes closed as he lifted it, letting the silky tresses fall through his fingers.

A small contented sound escaped her lips. This was where she wanted to be—it felt so
right.
The heat of his body penetrated through the thin wool of the turtleneck she wore. Her sensitised breasts rubbed against the iron hardness of his chest. She luxuriated in the glorious sensation. The contrast between his angular solidity and her own softness continued to excite her.

‘A glowing angel,' he murmured throatily against her ear. The waft of his breath on her skin sent shivers of sensation vibrating through her body. His mouth hungrily nuzzled her lower lip, tantalising. He caught the pink tender flesh between his teeth and tugged gently.
When his tongue began to trace the outline of her lips she moaned.

‘Do you want to taste me as much I want to taste you, Hope? You can feel how much I want you, can't you?' The instinctive sinuous thrust of her hips caught against the hardness of his arousal, and she felt the shock of contact vibrate through his magnificent body.

‘It hurts,' she whispered. He pulled away far enough for his eyes to focus on hers. ‘Wanting you this much hurts, Alex!'

There was nothing covert about the savage satisfaction that expanded to fill his eyes. ‘I know.'

Her heart pounded slowly in dizzy expectation. ‘About Lloyd…' She didn't want anything to get in the way. This was going to be perfect.

He swore. ‘For God's sake!'

‘But you don't understand. It isn't the way you think,' she said with compelling urgency. She ran a shaky hand over the hard contours of his face. His skin was faintly damp. ‘It isn't something I'm ashamed of…'

‘I don't want to hear this.'

‘You have to, Alex.'

‘Maybe you get turned on, reliving the lurid details of your antics with previous lovers, but I don't.'

Hope recoiled from the contempt in his eyes. I'm a fool, she realised with black despair. This isn't any different than the last time—he still despises me.

‘What are you doing?' Being picked up as though she was a small delicate thing was a unique sensation.

‘Where's your room?'

‘Put me down, Alex. I don't think Mum intended you to be quite so literal about tucking me in at night.' Her attempt at lightening humour fell on deaf ears. He was kicking open doors with his booted foot as he strode along the hallway. The study, which had been tempo
rarily converted as her bedroom, was one of the last he approached.

He backed in through the door to protect her injured leg. The hanging rail crammed with her clothes and the vivid Provençal pattern on her quilt cover were incongruous flashes of colour against the book-lined walls. The scent of her perfume hadn't quite overpowered the years' accumulation of pipe tobacco, but it overwhelmed Alex—
she
overwhelmed him. Where Hope Lacey was concerned he had tunnel vision. He couldn't think about anything else but possessing her.

He tugged back the quilt and laid her down. Hope didn't even notice the fact that her skirt was bunched around her middle, revealing the lacy edges of her loose silky pants. His eyes never left her face, and the stark expression of raw desire there appalled and excited her. He pulled off his jacket, tugged his loosened tie over his head and began to flick open the buttons on his shirt.

Each frantic, jerky movement ate deeper into her control. His white shirt hung open and she could see the strongly defined musculature of his torso. He was strength and power, without an ounce of surplus flesh to spoil the sculpted effect. This didn't surprise her; Alex was a disciplined man, who didn't surrender to self-indulgence.

‘Surrender'—the word evoked a ravishing image of his body astride her own. She couldn't take her eyes off him. The breadth of his shoulders and chest narrowed dramatically as it merged with his flat washboard belly, and the dark hair that generously covered his chest narrowed to a thin line that disappeared under the waistband of his trousers. His hands moved to the belt that circled his waist.

‘You can't!'

‘You have to be joking!' The muscles in his throat
worked convulsively as he paused. ‘Are you trying to tell me this isn't what you want?' When she didn't reply his face hardened into lines of hard determination and a spasm of annoyance contorted his features. ‘I don't care about your past, your lovers—there, does that satisfy you?'

Not when he said it like that, she thought, torn between her own deep, driving need and her conviction this was the wrong way to start a relationship—any relationship—with so much misunderstanding between them.

‘This is a unique moment that is never going to come back, Hope. It's up to us both to make of it what we choose. If you send me away you'll always wonder.' His deep voice was silkily insidious. ‘Forget about the past,' he advised, ‘and the future. We have here and now.'

Hope was well aware of the flaws in this argument. Consequences of the present had a habit of haunting the future. Maybe this
was
going to be the only time for them, a persuasive voice persisted. But wasn't wondering the safer option?

CHAPTER FIVE

‘Y
OU
were very sure I'd say yes, weren't you?' Hope lifted her head from its cradle on his chest and looked enquiringly into his face.

‘If you hadn't, anaesthetic is the only thing that would have got me through this night sane—with the possible exception of a bottle of malt.'

His sincerity brought a satisfied smile to Hope's lips. Did Alex always look this relaxed and mellow afterwards? she wondered. Her secret blush was hidden by the darkness. She had no regrets. Only a crazy person could have regretted anything so mind-blowingly perfect.

‘Will you class me as an insensitive brute if I fall asleep?' He pushed aside her hair and pressed his lips to the side of her neck.

‘I think you've earned it,' she teased softly.

He slept almost immediately, his head resting on the upper slopes of her breasts. Listening to the regular sound of his breathing, Hope stroked her long fingers through his hair.

She was relaxed, but wide awake. Excited, but calm. Her look of submission hadn't been enough for him. He'd wanted—or maybe needed—to hear her say it. The memory brought a rush of heat to her skin.

‘I want you to make love to me, Alex.' The hot, hazy blankness that had entered his eyes had been frightening.

For a split second fear of the unknown had swamped her desire. She'd had little experience to draw on for comparisons, but her brief affair with Hugh had never
been frightening or unpredictable. He'd been a generous lover and, even if the earth hadn't moved, she'd enjoyed the warmth and laughter of their intimacy. The raw savagery on Alex's drawn features represented something alien to her. She'd watched the muscles bunch and strain in his arms. He was incredibly strong. What if he lost control…?

‘Relax.' He must have caught her sudden flurry of doubt. ‘When I said I wasn't going to leap on you I meant it.' He cupped her chin in one hand and she moved her head and pressed her lips to his palm. ‘Shall we level things out a bit?' he suggested throatily.

She obediently lifted her arms as he took hold of her sweater and he pulled it over her head. The hardened tips of her breasts peaked further and swelled beneath the white cropped cotton top she wore. It left her curves hidden, but sexily explicit. She knew her body was better than adequate, but despite this confidence, she experienced a sudden anxiety to please.

‘I would have worn something a little more adventurous if I'd known.' The sweep of his straight dark lashes hid his expression from her eyes. What was he thinking? Did he like what he saw?

‘You can't enhance what is perfect.' He raised his eyes and she knew it wasn't disappointment she read on his face. His features were taut with need, his eyes lightened by silver streaks of raw desire.

She inhaled sharply as his hand came up to cover her left breast. She watched as the flat of his big hand moved slowly over the firm swell. She closed her eyes as her nipple tingled and burned. His hand moved with agonising slowness over the tight, firm flesh of her midriff, stopping only when his fingers slid beneath the waistband of her wraparound skirt.

‘How does this thing come off?' His voice sounded thick and hardly recognisable.

The desire that filled her was viscous and honey-sweet. Her tongue felt too slow to form a reply. ‘A button, here.' She touched his hand. The contact sizzled through her. ‘And here,' she whispered huskily.

‘Do it for me.'

The simple request sent an erotic thrill through her body. She raised herself from the pillows and flicked each button open. The skirt unwound and she pulled it free.

Alex took it from her grasp and flung the garment across the room. The muscles in his chest rippled. With a small cry she leant forward and placed both her hands flat against his skin.

‘You wouldn't believe how badly I've wanted to touch you.' His muscles contracted under her touch and she felt dizzy with desire. ‘How badly I've wanted to taste you.' Her head dipped forward and her tongue lashed experimentally across one hard, flat nipple. Both her arms slid under his arms and her hands curved over his shoulderblades, kneading his hard flesh as she brought her face closer. There was the sound of Alex's harsh breathing intermingled with tiny whimpering noises which Hope didn't connect with herself.

After a few moments Alex's fingers wound into the glistening strands of her tangled hair, and with one hoarse cry he yanked her head away.

Hope's glance was hot and hazy. ‘Why did you do that?' she protested. She cast a swift, frustrated glance at the cast on her leg and silently cursed the immobility that took the initiative from her.

‘You're driving me crazy!'

‘Isn't that the idea?' She wanted to drive him crazy. She wanted to hear him cry out in pleasure.

The darting, sultry glance of her eyes had a way of stripping the civilised veneer that was all he had left to hold his responses in check. ‘Definitely,' he agreed firmly. ‘Only I'm going to be crippled for life if I don't take these off.' His hands moved to the waistband of his trousers.

He had his back to her as the trousers obeyed gravity. He stepped out of them, and a pair of boxers followed suit. His behind was tight and muscular, and she was still admiring it when he turned around.

‘Would
wow
come over as tackily coarse?' She swallowed and felt the colour burn her cheeks. Her flippancy didn't hide the flattering awe in her eyes, and the way his unrestricted arousal stirred seemed to indicate she hadn't overstepped the bounds of decency in his eyes.

He had a body straight out of a fantasy. She swallowed hard as he knelt on the bed. ‘Beauty' was a word, but Alex was more than that—
much
more. He was the essence of all things male. And he's mine, she thought gloatingly.

Arms crossed, she pulled her bra top ever her head. Free from their Lycra imprisonment, her breasts swayed gently. She smiled as his eyes watched the undulations. Her heart was pounding wildly as she took hold of his wrists and led his hands to the twin warm mounds of flesh.

Alex's expression was almost blank as he looked from her face back to his wrists, imprisoned by an elegant pair of hands. She could almost hear the sound of something in him snapping—although exploding would have been closer to the mark.

His fists opened and his hands accepted the gift she offered. A strange cry ripped from his throat as his mouth came down on hers, driving her back against the mattress. His mouth wasn't gentle; it was hot and hun
gry. His tongue plunged repeatedly into the warm moistness of her mouth in a deliberate parody of a more intimate invasion of her body. And all the while his mouth plundered hers his hands were moving over her body with feverish haste, moulding her flesh to his needs.

When his mouth moved to her taut, aching breasts, tasting, suckling, her back arched and she cried out without being sure what it was she so desperately needed. She couldn't see any way it would be possible to assuage the hunger he had awoken.

He was astride her, his knees braced either side of her hips. He was too far away, she thought fretfully—too far.

He leant back and deliberately placed the heel of one hand against the soft mound at the apex of her legs. Her head thrashed wildly against the pillow and her body pushed rhythmically against his hand. His fingers slowly curled until he could feel the moist heat through the fine fabric of her pants.

‘How do you get these off over the plaster?' he asked thickly. Before she could reply she heard the sound of tearing fabric. ‘I applied a bit of lateral thinking.'

Hope had never heard brute force and impatience called this before, but she didn't pursue the issue—especially as he had begun to stroke the satiny inner aspect of her thighs.

‘Alex…' she moaned.

‘What, love?' The fine tremors that intermittently racked his powerful frame communicated themselves to her through his fingertips. The skin was drawn tightly over his flushed face; his eyes appeared almost black. He looked as if he was struggling against restraints of his own making.

When his fingers explored deeper, moving delicately into the warm, wet valley between her legs, she opened
her mouth to cry out, but the sound of her voice was lost in the recesses of his warm mouth.

‘Don't fight it, angel.' The erotic throb of his voice was against the base of her throat. The new growth on his jaw abraded her soft skin. ‘You like this, don't you?'

‘It's good,' she gasped. ‘I don't think I can bear it, Alex!' It was delicate, relentless torture. All there was in her world were the sensations that were building inside her trembling body. Even if she hadn't been tied down by the cast she wouldn't have been able to move; her lower body was paralysed by warm, liquid heat.

‘Hold on.' She realised he meant it literally as he placed her hands against the bars of the iron bedstead. ‘I like watching you,' he confided huskily, his eyes fixed in fascination on her flushed face, her parted lips and half-closed eyes. ‘You can't hide anything from me.'

Her body continued to move restlessly under the delicate expertise of his hands. ‘Do you want me to?'

‘No.'

It sounded to Hope as if his breathing had gone just as haywire as her own. His big body slid down beside her, and the provocative thrust of his rigid arousal against her thigh made her bite her lips and moan his name softly as a sensual thrill lanced through her.

He was sliding lower, his tongue gliding slowly over her warm, smooth skin, drawing a line down her abdomen. The small indentation above her navel seemed to fascinate him. Hope's hands tightened on the bedhead as he paused to explore with wet, darting forays. One hand moved to one smooth hip, and she felt impelled to apologise huskily.

‘I'm sorry—the cast. I'm a bit like a stranded whale.'

He lifted his head and looked consideringly at her supine form. With shocking deliberation he moved both hands between her legs, until the tips of his fingers
touched the soft protective thatch. She gave a sigh of relief when he parted her legs. She couldn't swallow; her throat was too dry.

‘No, there's no resemblance at all,' he contradicted. ‘Ingenuity is one of my strong points. I won't let this—' he touched the cast ‘—spoil things for you.'

‘I was thinking about you.' She applied her tongue to her dry lips.

‘Angel, nothing short of divine intervention would spoil things for me at this point.'

‘Alex,' she breathed in shock, ‘you can't do that!'

‘I can.' He sounded very confident about this.

‘You can't
want
to do that!'

‘I do.' His firm assertion silenced her feeble protest, and after the initial rejection she began to relax. It was electrifying, and the erotic friction sent her swiftly spiralling out of control. The rhythmic lash of his tongue instilled a primitive urge to fight for possession. She needed him to take her completely. In a husky, faltering voice she told him this—she screamed it as her clawed fingers tangled in his hair.

Alex's taut smile was filled with male triumph. He wanted to extend her need to its ultimate limit, even though doing so was a form of torture. To feel her shudder and frantically writhe with want, and to know it was his name on her lips, was more arousing than anything he'd ever experienced.

He was sure this level of intimacy was new to her. But this wasn't the time to wonder at this unexpected discovery.

Alex knelt between her splayed legs and pulled her across his steel thighs. He distributed her weight more evenly as his hands scooped her buttocks. She didn't need to move her injured leg; it was firmly anchored
beside his hip. This display of strength was a lot more than impressive; it was primitively arousing.

Tongue caught between her teeth, Hope looked at the point where his sex nudged the triangle of damp thatch between her legs. Hot need flooded through her, and just as she thought she'd die from sheer want he slid forward and up, sheathing himself inside her.

He'd positioned her so that he could set the pace, but she could and did urge him on with her strong pelvic muscles and hoarse but enthusiastic cries of encouragement. She sensed he was holding himself back, and she had no intention of allowing that. She wasn't fragile; she didn't want tentative.

‘Is this what you want?' he growled.

‘Yes, oh, yes!' she cried as he buried himself up the hilt. She greedily absorbed him. Her hands fought for purchase against the glistening skin of his back. Her head fell against his shoulder as he continued to thrust into her. Her laboured gasps scalded the skin of his neck as the pressure built.

When it came, the release shook Hope deeply. The wave of delight invaded each separate nerve-ending in her body. Her body arched backwards and, head thrown back, she cried his name. Her cries were almost instantly drowned by Alex's gratified groan, and feeling him pulsing within her brought tears of emotional fulfilment to her eyes.

Once she'd started the tears wouldn't seem to stop. Alex's alarm was only brief, and then he appeared to instinctively recognise them for what they were, and he was content to soothe her body until only the occasional hiccough shook her.

‘I'm sorry.' She couldn't put into words how profoundly the experience had touched her.

‘I think it was a compliment.' He touched the dampness on her cheek.

‘It was.' She placed her cheek against his chest and felt the heavy thud of his heartbeat.

 

She did eventually sleep, and when she woke up Alex was propped up on one arm, watching her. His expression was enigmatic but promising.

‘Hello.'

Alex caught his breath. Where he'd been half anticipating wariness and caution, she was all uncomplicated warmth.

‘Hello,' he responded huskily. She stretched lithely, hooking one arm above her head and brushing tangled strands of hair from her sleepy eyes. He's never seen a woman with less artifice—strange, when she made her living from creating an illusion.

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