Sinful Nights (35 page)

‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

She did so reluctantly with fingers that trembled, unable to suppress a small gasp of surprise when she opened the slim box and discovered the pearl choker inside.

‘I …’ She didn’t know what to say to him. Tears
misted her vision, swimming in front of her eyes. She touched the pearls gently, and wished that he was giving her this gift with love and caring.

‘They’re beautiful.’

‘I bought them because the texture and sheen reminded me of your skin.’

Her eyes opened wider, her head lifting until her glance met his, the visions conjured up in her mind by his quiet words making her go hot with need. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine he was touching her, caressing her with the slow intensity she remembered so vividly, learning the contours of her body, absorbing her into himself as though he never wanted to be apart from her.

‘I …’

‘I went up to London to get them the other day,’ he continued quietly, but now there was a new note to his voice, a grim bitterness that caught her attention. She frowned and he laughed harshly. ‘Yes, that’s right … the day you also decided to visit the city. Why did you go there, Lissa? Or can I guess? Was the temptation to see Greaves too much to resist? Did you want to see what effect you would have on him now that you’re free to take him as your lover? Did you, Lissa? Did you let him take you back to his flat and make love to you?’

Lissa could only stare at him. Joel had seen her with Simon! She remembered now that she had felt as though someone had been watching her when they were sitting in the café. The words of explanation and denial trembled on the tip of her tongue, and then she remembered Marisa.

‘Is that why you made it so obvious tonight that Marisa is your mistress, Joel?’ she countered with commendable coolness. ‘Because you saw me with Simon?’

‘So you don’t deny it?’

He was watching her with menacing intensity, the glittering rage so clearly discernible in his eyes igniting a strange mixture of misery and exhilaration inside her which spurred her on to ignore the warning signs.

‘Why should I? Do you deny that Marisa is your mistress? If
you
are free to enjoy a sexual relationship with someone else, then why should I not be?’

‘If it’s sex you want, then I can satisfy that need for you right here and now.’

Too late she realised her mistake. Lissa backed away hastily, the box containing her pearls clattering on to the carpet. Common sense told her to face Joel and tell him quite simply that it was all a stupid mistake, and that far from encouraging Simon to make sexual advances towards her, she had been telling him quite categorically that she didn’t want him, but something deeper than common sense took hold of her. She turned to run, motivated purely by blind, unthinking instinct. Joel caught her before she reached the door, swinging her round and into his arms, tightening them round her until she could feel the buttons of his shirt pressing into her. Even to breathe hurt, and although she twisted desperately against him she couldn’t break free. One hand tangled in her hair, tugging painfully on the roots forcing her mouth to accept the bruising pressure of his. He kissed her with a sexual savagery that shocked her, and yet beneath her fear and anger ran an undeniable thread
of liquid pleasure; a fierce need to match fire with fire and to respond to him with all the aching need that was building up inside her. It was hard to fight against herself and him, and even while she told herself that this was not right; that any intimacy between them while he was in this savagely punishing mood could only lead to further unhappiness for her, she could feel her will to resist slipping away from her. It was no use telling herself that he was simply using her as a vent for his frustrations and anger … that afterwards she would only feel renewed self-contempt and loathing … that by responding to him she was endangering her own self-respect. Her mouth softened under his, her heart thudding with delirious release as he recognised her surrender and took swift advantage of it, his tongue impatiently seeking access to her mouth, and when granted it, using her weakness ruthlessly against her. His fingers found her zipper and slid it down. Lissa was dimly conscious of his hands against her skin, smoothing up over her back, making her shiver first with pleasure and then with need as he pushed her dress away from her body. She was touching him too, sliding her hands inside his shirt, rediscovering the contours of his body. His mouth left hers, burning hotly against her skin as he tilted her head back, devastating her senses as he slowly ravaged the taut column of her throat.

‘Is this what you want, Lissa?’ His fingers sought the clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts to his knowing touch. She managed a strangled protest that died away into a whimpering admission of pleasure as his lips followed his hands, the movement of his tongue roughly
erotic as it brushed the sensitive peaks of her breasts. Her fingers bit protestingly into his shoulders, a fierce surge of pride and anger that he could do this to her making her fight against the sexual coercion he was using so cold bloodedly. He made a harsh sound of pain but far from releasing her pushed her down on to the bed, following her there. Momentarily her hands were free, and Lissa used them to fend him off, anger turning swiftly to fear when her nail accidentally caught his shoulder, tearing his flesh. Joel swore, swiftly imprisoning both her hands, pinning them above her head. A wild reckless sexual excitement thundered through her as she saw his expression and read in his eyes the same fierce hunger that was in her own. Joel wanted her! It was savagely satisfying to know that even though he loved Marisa she could make him want
her
. She wanted to taunt him with her knowledge to humiliate and denigrate him as he had done her. He moved against her, expelling a deep breath, and she caught sight of the thin thread of blood against his skin where she had scratched him. His glance followed hers. Their eyes meshed, his burning dark metallic gold, hers a dark bright, defiant hazel. She could feel the hard muscles of his thighs against her body … she knew that he wanted her … This should have been her moment of triumph, her chance to show him that he was not invincible. He moved slightly and her eyes were drawn back to his shoulder. Almost absently she touched his skin with her tongue, feeling him flinch and tense. His blood tasted slightly rusty, the knowledge that she had caused it to flow turning her bitterness to guilt. What if at this moment he did
want her? Wasn’t he only really using her as an escape valve because he couldn’t have the woman he really loved? The fight went out of her, leaving her empty … drained. She felt Joel’s grasp of her wrists slacken and prepared to move away from him. His hand cupped her face and she turned to look at him, dreading the words of contempt she was sure she was going to hear. As she looked into his eyes the expression glittering back at her there was one she didn’t recognise. His skin seemed to be drawn too tightly over his bones, a dark flush staining it.

‘Lissa.’ He said her name in a thickly unfamiliar voice. ‘Do that again,’ he commanded, moving so that her mouth was pressed against his shoulder. A deep shudder ran right through him as she automatically complied, touching his skin with her tongue with nervous delicacy, stunned that such a brief physical contact should apparently have so much power to move him. His hand found her breast, his thumb rubbing urgently against her swollen nipple. Lissa forgot that he didn’t love her, silencing her moan of anguished desire against the warm flesh of his throat. She felt his body surge against her own and recklessly arched up against him prolonging the tingling contact. Joel bent his head, his mouth fiercely claiming the aroused peak of her breast, his fingers caressing its twin.

Lissa arched and writhed beneath him, her nails raking helplessly against his skin, desire exploding tumultuously inside her as Joel continued to arouse spirals of unbearable delight inside her, tiny darts of fire running
shuddering through her body from its point of contact with the fierce heat of his mouth.

‘You’re my wife, Lissa.’ He said it thickly, against her skin, whether as a reminder that he had every right to make love to her if he chose, or as an explanation for the fact that he was doing so, she didn’t know. She ought to stop him, to remind him that he didn’t love her, but her treacherous body ached too much for the sweet agony of consummation. When he removed the rest of their clothing she didn’t stop him, simply watching him silently. Shadows made a subtle play of shading against his skin, one moment soft gold the next bronze. She ached to touch him Lissa acknowledged, watching him as he bent over her, removing her underclothes.

A slight shiver ran through her as his hand brushed her hip.

‘Cold?’

She shook her head as his hand curled round the spot he had just touched. He was kneeling beside her, and when she first felt the light brush of his tongue where his hand had rested she thought she must be imagining it. Her head lifted and swivelled round and she gasped as she felt the brief caress again. Her skin quivered responsively where he had touched it, darting quick-silver thrills of pleasure running from nerve ending to nerve ending. She could hardly believe it when Joel bent his head and slowly started to drag his tongue over the slight swell of her stomach. She jerked away from him in helpless torment, but he imprisoned her against the bed, his hands holding the narrow bones of her hips,
while his tongue left quivering trails of moist destruction over her skin.

Lissa was completely powerless to stop him, and after a while she no longer wanted to try, held thrall to the swift, leaping fires of pleasure that burned inside her. At first she twisted helplessly from side to side as much in an attempt to escape the devastation of her senses as to avoid Joel’s skilfully delicate touch, but all her struggles seemed to do was to give him access to areas of her skin that seemed even more responsive to him than the others had been.

‘Joel what are you dong?’ she managed to demand huskily at one point, tensing agonisingly as his tongue described a slow circle round her navel and then dipped tormentingly to explore its slight indentation.

‘Just trying to keep you warm,’ he replied suavely, ‘you are getting warm aren’t you Lissa?’ he tormented softly.

Warm? She was burning up, her skin on fire.

By the time Joel’s slow devastation of her body had reached her breasts she was shivering helplessly, aching for the full consummation of his possession. He kissed the tender fullness of their curves with mind-destroying slowness until Lissa couldn’t hold back the fevered protest that left her lips. Once that final wall in her defences had been breached she couldn’t keep silent her agonised pleas for him to end her torment, shattering the thick silence of the night, until Joel reached up and silenced her by pressing his finger against her mouth. Her lips parted, her tongue running frantically over the tips of his fingers, until driven half mad by the slow
drift of his mouth against her breast she sucked feverishly on his fingers.

Dimly she was aware of Joel groaning, of him shifting his weight so that his body lay between her thighs, his lips exploring her throat, in between muttering hoarse words of praise and enticement against her skin. He withdrew his fingers from her mouth, brushing the outline of her lips with his thumb, lifting his head to look deeply into her eyes, his hands moving slowly down over her body, lifting it into his own.

Lissa shivered, trembling with aching desire. ‘Tell me you want me more than you wanted him,’ Joel demanded softly, watching her.

For a moment Lissa’s mind was completely blank, and then when she realised the truth she could have wept with anguish. Joel had done this to her, aroused her to a pitch where her need for him was a throbbing ache that threatened to consume her, simply because his pride demanded that she want him more than she wanted Simon. If only he knew!

‘Tell me!’

His face blurred for a moment as she blinked away tears. ‘I want you more than I want Simon, Joel,’ she said shakily at last. ‘Much more.’

It was after all no less than the truth, and what he had done to her diminished him as much as it did her. Her body which had ached and hungered for his possession felt curiously drained of all feeling as he moved slowly and skilfully within her, rather like an overwound toy that was now broken, Lissa thought hazily, conscious of an overwhelming desire to break down and cry. Where
she had ached for physical fulfilment now she ached for an emotional commitment to match her own. She heard Joel swear and then withdraw from her, but she was feeling too numb and lacerated to react.

‘Lissa … what’s wrong?’ There was a raw uncertainty in Joel’s voice that made her want to reach out and comfort him, but something stopped her. Joel didn’t want
her
, he wanted Marisa. She felt her heart harden and shrink into a block of ice.

‘Lissa!’

The tone of his voice demanded a response, but all she could manage was a flat, ‘Using substitutes doesn’t seem to work, does it, Joel?’ before she slid down into a yawning black void of nothingness.

S
HE WAS VIOLENTLY ILL
when she woke up in the morning—a sure sign that she must have eaten something that disagreed with her, Lissa thought as she washed and dressed.

Joel was up already, and mentally thanking God that she did not have to face him she made her way downstairs. They could not go on the way they were, last night had shown her that. What had happened to the compassionate tender man she had briefly known? She went into the kitchen, grimacing when she caught the smell of bacon and eggs.

Mrs Fuller looked at her in concern.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Just a little queasy,’ Lissa explained. ‘Something I ate, I expect.’

The housekeeper grinned at her. ‘If you say so.’

It was several seconds before the import of her teasing remark sank into Lissa’s consciousness. When it did, she went pale and sat down heavily on one of the chairs, staring blankly at the wall. Dear God, she hadn’t thought of that! What if she should be pregnant?