‘Perhaps I just wanted to see you?’ His finger slid into the crease between her thumb and forefinger and stroked back and forth—a simple, innocent gesture that seemed unbearably erotic.
‘Why?’ She could feel the familiar tingling in her breasts—breasts which soon would give loving nourishment to his child.
‘Do I have to have a reason?’ he said huskily, pulling her slowly towards him.
‘Usually you have a reason for everything you do.’
He stroked her cheek. ‘How boring of me.’ He fingered a button of her white, mannish shirt until it slid open, and moved on down to the next one. ‘I have to try and be less logical on occasion.’
‘Marcus, what do you think you’re doing?’ she asked as he flicked open another button to reveal a peek of lace.
‘Just browsing, darling.’ When he said ‘darling’ like that in that dark, velvety voice, it sent shivers up her spine. A person very much loved; if only he was using the word literally, rather than as a casual endearment. ‘Would you like to make love?’
‘Here?’ She was shocked to her toes by his unconventional suggestion. ‘But this is your office!’
He lifted her hand to his mouth and bit into the succulent base of her thumb. ‘It worked for us once before,’ he murmured, his blue eyes dilating.
And how it had worked! She glanced involuntarily at the couch where her baby had been conceived.
‘Marcus, for goodness’ sake, don’t be silly!’ It was a plea she’d never thought she’d hear herself make. ‘It’s broad daylight,’ she added irrelevantly as he slid his hand inside her loosened shirt to cup her lace-covered breast, squeezing it very gently, and fondling her in a way that made her sway bonelessly towards him.
‘It’ll be a new experience for you, then,’ he promised, standing up and taking her fully into his arms. ‘You like new experiences, Harriet,’ he reminded her, and kissed the next protest from her mouth with consummate skill.
‘Marcus…’ She put the arms that had intended to push him away around his hard waist. If she still found him this irresistible, how would she ever persuade herself to let him go?
He gave a grunt of satisfaction and shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. His hand curved over her leather-clad bottom, massaging it lightly as he nudged her backwards towards the couch, kissing her all the way, and she found herself helplessly murmuring his name again.
‘Yes, Harriet?’ His hand was under her bra now, finding a throbbing nipple.
‘Marcus, we can’t do this.’ She hoped she sounded stern.
‘Why not?’ He sat on the couch with her, his mouth warm and encouraging on hers. ‘Don’t you like it?’ His hand began to creep up under the hem of her skirt.
Her thoughts were scattering. ‘Yes, but—’
‘Don’t you want me?’ He abandoned her mouth and kissed her throat, her bared collar-bone, and nibbled sensuously around the stud in her ear.
Harriet tilted her head to give him better access. ‘Yes, but—’
‘Did the doctor forbid you?’ he asked slyly, his thumb rubbing the stiff little peak of her breast.
She moaned. ‘No, but—’
‘But what? What is it that you’re running from this time, Harriet?’ he coaxed in a throaty murmur as he pushed her onto her back and came over her. ‘You can tell me. You can trust me with all your little secrets, darling. I’m the absolute soul of discretion…’
‘But I’m not,’ she burst out. ‘I’m wildly indiscreet. It’s no use; I can’t be the kind of mistress you want. I’m not cut out for discreet affairs. I can’t bear to hold my feelings inside the way you do. I might have been like that once, but I can’t go back to a life like that. I don’t want to have to pretend; I don’t want to have to be passionate in private but prim and proper in public. You wouldn’t be able to take me anywhere with you; I’d be a public relations disaster, always embarrassing you with emotional displays. And…I’m…and I’m…’ The jagged words that might deliver the final push to send him away stuck dangerously in her throat.
‘And what? What else are you, Harriet?’ he asked harshly, in contrast to the silky smoothness of a few moments before.
‘And I’m in love with you,’ she admitted in a shattered voice. She lay still, exhausted by the small, violent storm, waiting for him to laugh, or withdraw, or, worse, say something
kind…
He did none of those things. He braced himself on his strong arms, looked calmly down at her turbulent face and said, ‘Well, it certainly took you long enough to work that out, darling.’
‘What?’
He put his face down, his nose an inch away from hers, and said with banked fierceness, ‘What do you think I’ve been doing with you all this time, if not waiting for you to come to me of your own free will? You complain you don’t have any freedom!’ He laughed through his teeth. ‘For God’s sake, I’ve had you haunting me for months…wanting to see you again, to talk to you, to touch you, feeling that I didn’t have the right after what I’d done.