Sleeping Partners. Helen BrooksЧитать онлайн книгу.
to shout and dance, to act crazy, but instead she had stood outside the church posing for pictures as though the only thing on her mind was the success of Cassie’s special day.
Clay had stood at the back of the crowd, his dark good looks brooding, but she’d been aware of every little movement he had made. The minute he had turned his head, whom he had spoken to, how many times he had smiled or nodded—her mind had recorded it all, along with the breadth of his strong shoulders, the magnetic pull of his overwhelming masculinity.
The reception had been typical of such occasions, she supposed. Feverish gaiety, endless speeches, toasts and more toasts, but all she had known was that when the dancing had started Clay had danced with everyone but her.
It had hurt. Desperately, tragically, in a way that only sixteen-year olds can feel, and towards the end of the evening she had passed through every emotion known to man.
The reception had been held at a lavish hotel overlooking a vast, man-made lake, and just before ten o’clock she had noticed Clay walk out of the big open doors at the end of the room and disappear into the shadows beyond. Even now she didn’t know what had made her follow him. Curiosity, desire, frustration, desperation, love… Probably a mixture of all of them.
The sky had been a deep indigo velvet pierced with stars, flooded with an ethereal whispering stillness that had made the scented air rich and heavy. It had been intoxicating.
He had been standing at the edge of the lake some distance from the lighted hotel, his dark bulk silhouetted against the water, and he hadn’t been aware of her presence until she had almost reached him. She’d gazed at him, aching with love.
‘Robyn?’ He turned as she trod on a small twig which alerted him to the fact that she was there. And then the look of bemusement changed and he said, his voice forced and teasing in a way she found insulting, ‘What are you doing out here? You’ll spoil that pretty dress of yours if you aren’t careful,’ as though she was six years old instead of sixteen.
‘It’s hot in there.’ She continued to his side, her stomach churning with her temerity. She paused, and then summoned every ounce of courage she possessed and said, her voice quiet and her eyes wide and serious, ‘Why didn’t you want to dance with me, Clay?’
‘Dance with you?’ He cleared his throat before smiling carefully, but she noticed it didn’t reach the silver blue of his eyes. ‘You’re in such demand tonight no one can get near you.’ His voice with its faint American accent was overhearty.
‘That’s not true.’ She didn’t know what was driving her but the night was timeless and enchanting and she had loved him so much for so long, and then to be disappointed afresh…
‘No?’ He opened his mouth to make some light, throw-away remark—she saw it in his face—but then as his eyes met hers he froze and it seemed as though they both stopped breathing. ‘Robyn…’
‘What?’ She moved even closer, her heart thundering at the look on his face. She might never get a chance like this again.
‘This is madness.’ It was a husky murmur, almost a sigh. ‘You’re a baby.’
‘I’m not a baby.’ She was hardly aware of reaching up to put her arms round his neck, her body pliant as the delicious smell of him wrapped round her. She’d show him she wasn’t a baby.
Slowly and very gently his arms pulled her against the hard solid wall of his chest, and as his face had come nearer she waited for the kiss in a rush of excitement that was too intense to bear. The taste and the feel of him was spinning in her head as his lips met hers, and as she gave a little moan of longing he answered it with a harsh, guttural sound of his own, his mouth becoming urgent and hungry.
At first she felt a slight sense of shock, the tiniest recoil as his tongue moved probingly against her lips, but almost immediately it was replaced with waves of delight as sensation after sensation began to bring her tinglingly alive.
Her body was moulded against his now, the vital male smell of him filling her nostrils and the alien sense of his hidden power and dominance becoming real as the thrust of his body against hers proclaimed his arousal. How long they continued to kiss she didn’t know, but their bodies were so close she could feel his heart slamming against his ribcage and feel every small tremor as his mouth left hers to blaze a burning trail down her throat and into the soft swell of her breasts.
He tried to move away at one point, his voice hoarse as he said, ‘We have to stop, Robyn, now. You’re Cassie’s little sister for crying out loud…’
But she pulled his head down to hers in answer, her love for him taking precedence over anything else and her surrender complete. His kisses and caresses were better than her most erotic dreams and she knew—she knew—she would never love anyone but Clay. She was moving mindlessly against him as he kissed her with a hungry intensity that was thrilling, his hands exploring her soft curves and causing her to arch and twist.
Her dress was off her shoulders now, exposing the pure creamy skin enhanced provocatively by the special lacy strapless bra she had bought. Then that too was peeled away from her hot skin and the full thrust of her breasts laid bare.
She should have felt shy; this was the first time she had even kissed a boy let alone been caressed and touched like this, but she felt nothing but elation and a wish to be even nearer to him as first his hands and then his lips made her arch with pleasure. This was Clay, she had dreamed of this moment, tasted it.
What would have happened if her name hadn’t been called into the dark shadows in which they were enclosed, she didn’t know. Or then again she did, only too well…
Robyn twisted jerkily in the bath, a wave of water slopping perilously close to the edge as the memories became almost too painful to contemplate.
Cassie and Guy had been ready to leave the reception and she had been missed. As their bridesmaid she had to wave them off.
She had tried to ignore the searching voices but Clay had frozen at the first shout, his muscled chest clenching before his breath had been hissed out between his teeth as he had very firmly put her from him, drawing first her bra and then her dress into place with hands that had shook slightly.
She remembered she’d made a small sound of protest, her arms reaching out to him again, but he had stepped back a pace, his voice grim as he’d said, ‘This should never have happened, Robyn. Hell, it must be the wine and the atmosphere and the fact that you’re so different tonight. But you’re too young, a child still, and I should never have touched you.’
‘I’m not a child.’ It hurt, terribly. ‘I’m over sixteen.’ She couldn’t believe he’d called her a child again.
‘Sixteen?’ His laugh was harsh, like a bark. ‘Damn it all, I’m twenty-three.’ And he glared at her.
‘I don’t care.’ The voices were still there in the background and she felt desperate to make him understand before they were found. ‘I—I’ve loved you for ages.’
‘Loved me?’ The note in his voice cut her in two and it was in that moment she discovered that love and hate are different sides of the same coin. ‘You’re barely out of nappies for crying out loud. How can you know what love is?’
She stared at him, too devastated to say a thing, and he glared back at her as he continued, ‘I don’t know what you’ve been up to with boys at school but judging by tonight it’s too damn much. I came very near to having you just now; do you understand that? Now, whether it’d be the first time or not for you is neither here or there, I know I should never have laid a finger on you. I’ve let Cassie and Guy down as well as myself.’
Cassie’s voice rose above the other calls and on hearing it Robyn whirled round and away from him, skimming across the grass like a will o’ the wisp, her hands pressed to her lips as she struggled not to cry. She paused to catch her breath before she emerged from the concealing shadows into the lights of the massive patio outside the room her parents had hired for the reception, adjusting her clothes