Sinful Nights (12 page)

‘Perhaps I’m just testing to see exactly how deep your hatred of me really is,’ Blake taunted back.

Sapphire compressed her lips. ‘I’m not a child any more, Blake,’ she reminded him. ‘No matter what my personal feelings for you are, I wouldn’t want to see you take the risk of getting a bad infection through a neglected skin wound.’

‘Which doesn’t really answer my question does it?’

‘Sit down,’ Sapphire instructed, ignoring his probing comment. ‘This will sting,’ she warned him as he sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to her. His skin looked so warm and inviting that it took all the self-control she possessed not to reach out and caress it.

‘And won’t you just enjoy it,’ Blake muttered under his breath, tensing slightly as Sapphire applied the antiseptic
soaked pad to his skin, gently cleaning the graze, until the blood flowed cleanly from it.

She let it flow for a few seconds, and then quickly stemmed it with fresh antiseptic, hiding a faint smile as Blake winced.

‘Give me a shout when you’re ready,’ she told him when she had finished, ‘and I’ll come up and put a dressing on it for you. It should start to heal by morning.’

‘Yes, nurse,’ Blake mocked, getting up off the bed and momentarily making her feel at a distinct disadvantage as he towered over her. ‘Taking a risk aren’t you?’ he drawled, watching her. For a moment Sapphire thought he meant the temptation she had exposed herself to in being so close to him, and her face flamed until he added softly, ‘Isn’t it a well known fact that patients always fall for their nurses?’

‘In that case I think I’m pretty safe,’ Sapphire responded, struggling to appear calmly unconcerned. ‘After all I already know how you feel about me, don’t I?’

Blake walked out without responding, and when she heard the bathroom door close behind him Sapphire got up and went to the large, old-fashioned airing cupboard situated on the landing to get clean sheets for his bed.

She worked methodically, changing the sheets, tidying up automatically, filling the laundry basket with the items of discarded clothing she found scattered round the room. Blake was basically a tidy man and there was nothing really in the starkly furnished room apart from his clothes that had his stamp of possession on
it. If anything the room was rather bleak, she thought, studying it, almost monk-like. Mocking herself for her thoughts Sapphire carried the laundry out on to the landing. Blake was no monk, as she had seen last night.

She had just finished preparing the table when Blake called. Guessing that he would probably be tired she had decided that they might as well eat in the kitchen. It was warm and cosy enough and the table was large enough to seat an entire family, never mind merely two adults.

This time she walked into Blake’s room without thinking, coming to an abrupt halt as she realised that he was nude. Of the two of them she was the one to be embarrassed she recognised angrily, as Blake merely grinned mockingly at her, taking his time in reaching for the towel that lay discarded on the bed.

‘Why the outraged expression?’ he demanded calmly. ‘I can’t be the first naked man you’ve seen.’

He was the only one, but Sapphire wasn’t going to tell him that. ‘Hardly,’ she lied, shrugging aside the frisson of awareness the sight of his naked body had given her.

‘And we are married …’

‘Maybe, but it isn’t the sort of marriage that involves parading around naked in front of one another.’

‘What a pity.’ Genuine amusement glinted in Blake’s eyes as he teased her, and Sapphire had to fight against responding, against remembering how much joy there had been in loving him before she discovered the bitter truth. Blake had always been able to make her laugh, and even now she could feel the corners of her mouth twitching in response to his droll expression. The towel
was firmly in place around his hips now, but to her chagrin that didn’t stop Sapphire from visualising the taut shape of masculine buttocks and long hard thighs.

‘Something smells good.’ Blake’s voice jerked her out of her reverie, and Sapphire bent her head to hide her guilty flush of colour. What on earth would he think if he knew what had been in her mind?

Fortunately he didn’t, she assured herself as she gestured to the bed and suggested that he sit on it. This time she didn’t allow herself to dwell on the supple texture of his skin or the masculine formation of muscle and bone that lay beneath it, finishing her self-imposed task with a haste she was surprised Blake didn’t pick up on.

When the dressing was in place, she stepped away from him, tensing nervously as his fingers curled round her arm, preventing her from moving.

‘Blake, let me go.’ Her voice sounded sharp and nervous even to her own ears, and her anxiety increased when Blake refused to accede to her demand.

‘I haven’t rewarded you yet,’ he told her softly, the hard grip of his fingers pulling her inexorably closer to him. ‘All ministering angels deserve a reward, don’t you agree?’

Whatever she might have said was lost as she felt the warm heat of Blake’s body. She put out a hand to push him away, but the sensation of warm, sensuously silken male skin beneath her fingertips was so intoxicating that her resistance melted.

Dimly she was aware of Blake pulling her down on to his lap, and of the single bed creaking protestingly under their double weight.

She struggled to pull away out of his constraining arms, but Blake simply toppled her over on to the bed, imprisoning her against it with the superior weight of his body. His thighs pinned her lower body to the mattress, his chest hard against the softness of her breasts.

Sapphire felt vulnerable and helpless and yet the sensations coursing through her veins and along her nerve endings whispered sensuously of pleasurable excitement rather than fear. Even so, she felt moved to protest shakily, ‘Blake, let me get up, the dinner …’

Soft laughter brushed against her skin. ‘Right now I’m hungry for more than just food.’

‘Then perhaps you ought to give Miranda a ring,’ Sapphire suggested tartly, struggling to push him away. She was glad she had said that, until that moment she had been dangerously close to giving way to the insiduous pull of her too vulnerable senses.

‘Why should I need another man’s wife, when I’ve got one of my own?’ Blake countered outrageously, following her squirming movements and refusing to let her escape. His towel, Sapphire realised, had become dislodged, and weakening darts of pleasure relaxed her muscles into a sensuous lethargy as she felt her body reacting to the male provocation of Blake’s body.

‘Kiss me, Sapphire.’

She looked at him with desire-hazed eyes, barely comprehending the softly whispered command as she fought to subdue the treacherous impulses of her body.

‘No.’ She mumbled the denial huskily, knowing that it was far more than a kiss that Blake wanted from her. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t play substitute for Miranda.

‘Yes.’ The silky affirmation was whispered against her lips, the warmth of Blake’s breath stirring to life a thousand tiny drumming pulses. Against her will Sapphire felt her mouth soften, her breathing suddenly ragged as Blake touched its soft contours with the tip of his tongue, expertly teasing light kisses into the corners, tormentingly stroking her sensitised skin, until she reacted with a feverish protest, lifting her arms, and locking her fingers behind his neck, her body arching instinctively into the hard heat of his, as her mouth opened to capture the marauding torment of his tongue. The sudden fierce pressure of his mouth, searing into her skin, took Sapphire by surprise, making her realise the extent of Blake’s self-control. The kisses he had given her before had been so lightly teasing that she had been lulled into a false sense of security, and yet there was a wild elemental pleasure in responding to Blake’s hunger; a knowledge that they were meeting as equals, not child and adult.

When he eventually released her mouth it felt bruised and slightly swollen, and yet the sensation was a pleasurable one, her lips acutely sensitive to the light kisses he caressed them with as he murmured softly, ‘Let me take this tee-shirt off, I want to feel you against me, Sapphire.’

His hands were already gripping the edge of her tee-shirt, and to her shame Sapphire knew a wild impulse to help him. Once she had fantasised about seeing their bodies intimately enmeshed; the paleness of her fair skin against the gold-bronze of his and now, treacherously, that memory resurfaced making her protest
only a token one as Blake tugged the stretchy fabric up over her body.

Her figure had changed in the intervening years, she knew; her shape no longer that of a young girl. Her waist had narrowed, but her breasts were fuller, more mature, crowned with deep pink nipples, at the moment veiled from Blake’s intense scrutiny by the lacy fabric of her bra.

‘Beautiful,’ he murmured huskily, his thumb stroking caressingly along the edge of the dainty lace and down into the hollow between her breasts.

Desire seemed to explode like fireworks deep inside her, stunning Sapphire with its intensity. She had desired Blake before, but surely never with this consuming, all-important depth, that pushed aside every other emotion as trivial and not to be considered. She wanted to respond to him with every feminine nerve ending; she wanted to feel his hands and mouth against every inch of her skin; and she wanted the freedom to caress and know him in exactly the same way. The knowledge that she could feel like this was shocking and yet exciting; freeing her suddenly from the fear she had always had that somehow she was not quite 100 per cent feminine; that the deep inner core of her was cold and un-functioning. No other man had made her feel like this, certainly not Alan.

Alan! She tensed, suddenly shocked back to reality. Blake’s fingers were curled round the lacy cup of her bra, his eyes so brilliantly gold as he stared down at her that she found herself blinking, half-dazzled by their glitter.

‘Blake, I don’t want …’ She shivered as he cut off her protest by bending his head and brushing his lips provocatively along the delicate skin exposed above the white lace.

A tumult of sensations poured moltenly through Sapphire’s veins. She made a small sound, meant to be a protest, but which emerged as a soft cry of pleasure as Blake’s fingers eased back the lace and his lips followed the path they made until they found the aching centre of her breast, being teased into wanton erectness by the caressing movement of his fingers.

Awash with pleasure Sapphire was barely aware of Blake unsnapping her bra, and exposing her other breast until he repeated his tormenting caresses on it with a nerve-racking delicacy that left Sapphire shivering and aching beneath an onslaught of pleasure she hadn’t believed could exist.

‘You respond to me as though no-one’s ever touched you like that before,’ Blake muttered rawly, cupping her breasts possessively as he looked up at her. ‘I expected you to be more blasé.’

As she shuddered in reaction, he moaned thickly, ‘Don’t do that, you make me go up in flames, just thinking about …’ His sudden tension alerted Sapphire to the sound of a vehicle arriving in the yard.

‘Damn,’ Blake swore softly. ‘The last thing I feel like right now is leaving this bed.’

His words brought Sapphire back down to earth, making her shrink in self-disgust from her own behaviour. How could she have behaved so foolishly? She was lucky that Blake didn’t appear to have guessed how
much she still cared about him … Stunned, Sapphire stopped what she was doing. That wasn’t true, she didn’t care about Blake at all … But if that was true, why had she reacted to intensely to him … why had her body welcomed him as its lover? She
didn’t
still love him; she
couldn’t
… but deep inside Sapphire knew that she was only deceiving herself. If sex was really her only motivation she could have found that with anyone of a dozen or more attractive men whom she had dated since leaving Blake, but she hadn’t wanted to. She had remained sexually cold to them. She still loved Blake all right, and deep down inside her she must have known it all along, even though she had tried to hide from the truth.

Sick at heart, too numb almost to pull on her tee-shirt, she heard someone knocking on the back door, and hurriedly completed her task.

‘I’ll get it,’ she told Blake, too disturbed to turn and look at him.

The rich smell of their evening meal filled the warm kitchen as Sapphire hurried across it, her hair as uncombed and her face free of makeup, her lips no doubt still swollen from Blake’s kisses. A flush of embarrassment stained her skin as she pulled open the door, and then came to an abrupt halt, stunned by the sight of the very last person she had expected to see standing there.

‘Alan,’ she managed weakly, staring at him, thinking how out of place his dark business suit and obviously new sheepskin jacket looked—and how alien he seemed to her. She had only been away from London for a few days, but already it seemed like another life-time.

‘Your father told me you were here,’ Alan frowned.
‘I’ve been to make arrangements to get the car back. You really should have been more careful, Sapphire, and what are you doing here?’ he demanded waspishly. ‘I expected to find you with your father, instead he directed me here … or rather his housekeeper did. Not a very forthcoming woman, but then I suppose it’s only to be expected from these country types. Aren’t you going to let me in?’ he asked her querulously. ‘It’s freezing out here, and what on earth are you wearing?’ He surveyed her jean-clad figure with open disapproval. ‘Sapphire, what’s going on, I …’

‘Why don’t you tell him, darling?’

Blake’s voice from the other side of the kitchen made Sapphire wrench her head round in open-mouthed disbelief. Clad only in a towelling robe, Blake stood by the door, arms folded, hair tousled, the sight of his bare chest and long lean legs making Sapphire go weak at the knees, treacherous, reactionary sensations warming the pit of her stomach.

‘Sapphire, who is this?’ Alan demanded.

‘Blake,’ Blake offered, answering for her, and walking towards Alan, proferring his hand, ‘Sapphire’s husband.’

‘Husband!’ Alan practically goggled, and watching him Sapphire knew that no matter how she might have chosen to deceive herself, when it came to it, she would never have married Alan. The emotions she felt for him were lukewarm nonentities when compared with the fierce, tumultuous feelings she had for Blake.