Uncertain Destiny. Carole MortimerЧитать онлайн книгу.
breath was coming in strangled gasps, her head thrashing from side to side as she knew she was about to shatter, to be devoured by the burning ache that filled her whole body now.
Suddenly her back arched, her thighs thrust fiercely against Justin, her eyes wide with wonder on Justin’s face as the pleasure exploded, imploding in a million different places in her body.
Justin continued to thrust against her, and as one wave of pleasure ended another began, until she felt it would never stop, awestruck as she watched the savage beauty of Justin’s face as he grimaced as though in pain, groaning loudly, suddenly even more fierce against her, driving her over the edge again as she felt his own fevered release.
He gently lowered his weight against her, burying his face in her perfumed hair, his breath deep and rasping. ‘It was more,’ he finally groaned, ‘so much more than I even imagined!’
She could never have imagined anything as devastatingly shattering as the passion they had just shared. She didn’t need to be experienced to know that it had been something special. She hadn’t known whether she would be able to feel pleasure at all the first time they made love, but it had been never-ending, and even now she wanted him again. As she felt him stir against her she knew that it was what he wanted, to.
He looked down at her questioningly as his passion rekindled. ‘Are you all right?’ His voice was husky.
A delicate blush darkened her cheeks. ‘I don’t hurt at all,’ she assured him softly, finding her shyness utterly ridiculous considering the intimacy of their positions.
He frowned. ‘You’ll probably be a little sore tomorrow,’ he warned sympathetically. ‘But as long as you feel OK now?’ Still he hesitated about repeating that fiery splendour.
‘I feel fine,’ she said gruffly. ‘I feel better than fine,’ she added determinedly. ‘And I want you again, too.’
He smiled his satisfaction with her answer, and it made him look more rakish than ever, his hair tousled, the eye-patch giving him a devilish look.
She tentatively touched his cheek near the black patch. ‘What happened?’ She frowned her concern.
‘A dissatisfied client,’ he dismissed shruggingly, bending to move his lips against her throat.
Her frown deepened, even though his lips sent a delicious thrill down the length of her spine. ‘I thought you always won?’
‘Not my dissatisfied client,’ Justin gently mocked. ‘I made sure he was put away.’
Her fingers stilled against his cheek. ‘But if he was put in prison …’
‘They all get out eventually,’ Justin explained tautly. ‘I do my job, Caroline,’ he added softly as she shivered in reaction. ‘This man just happened to believe there was something personal in my prosecution of him. When he got out of prison he paid me a little visit.’ He frowned.
She was still trembling. ‘Where is he now?’
Justin’s mouth twisted. ‘Back in prison, for attacking me this time.’ He shrugged dismissively. ‘It really isn’t important.’
‘But he—he blinded you in one eye!’ she gasped.
He nodded. ‘And it isn’t a pretty sight. But then knife wounds never are,’ he murmured almost to himself. ‘But let’s not talk about that now, Caroline.’ His gaze moved over her hungrily. ‘I want to make love to you again. And this time we might even make it as far as the bedroom,’ he added self-derisively.
Caroline blushed as she looked around them and realised they were still in the dining-room.
Justin’s mouth quirked. ‘Don’t look so embarrassed, Caro,’ he teased throatily. ‘At least it wasn’t on the table!’
He carried her through to his bedroom, beginning to make love to her again, more slowly this time as neither of them were so feveredly desperate, but it was just as intense, just as shattering, the two of them lying damply together as their hands still moved caressingly over each other, unable to stop the touching.
As the night passed swiftly by, Justin was indefatigable, making love to her again and again, groaning his protest when she had to leave him in the morning to go to work.
He watched her as she dressed in the gown that seemed so out of place in the brightness of the sunny Sunday morning. After the intimacies they had shared it was a little ridiculous to feel shy in front of him, but the way he watched her so steadily unnerved her, and she heaved a silent sigh of relief as she zipped up the back of her gown.
‘Can you be available on Thursday?’ He sat back against the coffee-coloured pillows, his chest bare as the matching sheet lay draped across his thighs. He was so completely male, his body all hard muscle, and he knew how to use that body to the satisfaction of both of them. ‘If not next Thursday—–’ he frowned at her silence ‘—it will have to wait a couple of weeks; I’m going to be very busy until then.’
Caroline suddenly realised what he had said, shaking her head to clear it of the sensual spell this man seemed to exert over her without even trying.
What did he mean, could she be available next Thursday, if not it would have to wait a couple of weeks? She knew she had behaved like a wanton the night before, but she had thought the passion more than returned; she didn’t expect him to try and fit her in among all of his other social engagements now that he had taken what he seemed to want!
Her face paled as she realised what a fool she had been to imagine that what was between them was special. How many other women had told themselves the same thing, only to realise that what was love on their side was merely lust on the side of the man?
She was twenty-three years old and had received more than her fair share of sexual proposals over the years, mainly from medical students who believed a nurse was fair game, but she had behaved like a fool last night, had become totally infatuated with a man who saw taking a woman to bed as no more than another conquest he had to make.
A sob caught in her throat as she turned away to search for her shoes where she had placed them on the floor, tears blinding her. She stiffened as she felt Justin’s nakedness behind her as he pulled her back against him.
‘Don’t you want to marry me?’ His voice was silkily soft against her ear.
Marry? She turned slowly to face him, her eyes wide, searching the derisive amusement of his face. His derision seemed to be self-directed, as if he, too, found the prospect of marriage surprising, even if he were resigned to it.
‘Destiny played a dirty trick on me three weeks ago,’ he drawled ruefully. ‘The moment I saw you I wanted you,’ he told her calmly. ‘And after only one night with you I know that no other woman has ever matched me in passion the way you do.’
She blinked, still dazed that he had meant he wanted to marry her next Thursday. ‘You want to marry me because—because we make love well together?’ she said disbelievingly, the tender ache in her body reminding her of the night that had just passed, of just how well they made love.
‘Not the sort of marriage proposal you were ever expecting to hear, was it?’ he mocked, cupping her chin to caress her cheek lightly with the pad of his thumb. ‘But it isn’t just how well your body fits to mine,’ he said ruefully. ‘It’s because I know, realised as I waited for you the last three weeks, that I don’t ever want any other man to have you. Even less so now.’ His smile was gentle at her self-conscious blush at his reference to her virginity. ‘No, I’m not in love with you,’ he seemed to read the uncertain question in her eyes, ‘I’ve already told you my opinion of that emotion,’ he scorned. ‘But I do know this wanting isn’t going to go away in a hurry, that it probably never will, and that I want my claim on you to be a public one. Is that going to be enough for you?’ He looked down at her steadily, his gaze narrowed to a silver slit.
Because she was too much in love with him to say no, it had to be enough.
They