Love in the Valley

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked breathlessly, with conscious challenge, knowing already what he was going to do, and wanting him to do it.

‘Something I shouldn’t,’ he muttered, lowering her against his mouth, sending sparkling streaks of exhilaration through her body as his limber tongue invaded her mouth, punishing with pleasure. He held her easily, as if she weighed nothing, as he kissed her, tilting and turning her small body with his hands so that he could explore her mouth from different angles. Julia’s hands left the rigid tendons of his wrists and clutched at the solid warmth of his neck as she felt him move, carrying her backwards, hard thighs bumping between her dangling legs.

He stopped and slowly, slowly, let her slide through his hard embrace until her toes touched the floor. From hip to shoulder Julia’s body burned at the crushing, sliding friction down the length of the masculine torso. Now the long fingers angled firmly under her arms, thumbs pressing into the soft undersides of her breasts. Julia melted into him, sliding her arms under his jacket, around to his back where her hands spread across the hard-packed flesh, nails burrowing into the warmth, urging him closer. She was on her tip toes, head buzzing with pleasurable sensations, opening to him as his mouth clung hotly, drifted and clung again. It felt so good, even better than it had before.

‘For a moment I thought you were going to put me over your knee,’ she said dreamily as he nibbled the point of her chin, thumbs beginning a lazy movement which stroked the soft wool of her sweater against the ultra-sensitive skin of her breasts, making them tauten and sending a lick of heat plunging to her belly.

She felt him lean against her so that the hard edge of the kitchen table dug into her buttocks. Slowly, slowly he continued the lean until Julia was arched back, flat against the table top, oblivious to the pool of marinade soaking into the back of her sweater as she stared into the grey-blue eyes glittering into hers. Were they getting bluer, or was that just the reflection of her own, so close to his?

‘I haven’t finished with you yet,’ he threatened softly, adding huskily: ‘I get the feeling that you wouldn’t object to anything I did to you … and there’s so much I could do.’ He buried his mouth in hers again, this time with a questing urgency which startled and excited Julia, making her forget as completely as he obviously had how vulnerable they were to interruption.

The broad chest hovered over her as she felt his hands leave her then gasped as she felt them slide smoothly up under her loose sweater, silking over the lycra leotard she was wearing for warmth, splaying heavily out over her generous breasts. Julia shuddered against him, her back arching further as the cupping, massaging motion of his fingers took effect. She groaned his name, glad she had worn no bra, glad that she fitted so perfectly into his hands. She had never felt such an urgent need for assuagement, a need which overrode inhibition and common sense, and stripped away all her preconceptions of what naked passion could be. His fingers were soft, subtle, skilful, bringing her nipples to burgeoning fullness through the thin lycra, teasing out her response so that Julia bloomed with the rising of her blood.

Her legs, hanging over the side of the table, were trapped by the crowding strength of his and Julia twitched them helplessly, aching to wrap them licentiously around him, to draw him even closer than was physically possible.

His mouth lifted at her restless movement and he stared down at her hectically flushed face, still glistening under its light application of pink oil. He was breathing as hard as she was, but he brought it quickly under control, the massive chest expanding and contracting rhythmically, the only sign of colour on the tips of his ears. Julia watched dazedly as he licked his lips experimentally, his mouth reddened to sensual fullness by long contact with hers.

‘You taste so hot and spicy. Kissing you is like eating fire.’ He ducked and stroked his tongue over her jawbone, nudging her head around so that he could take the soft, fleshy lobe of her small ear into his mouth and suckle it with a firm, tugging pressure that was incr

edibly erotic. Julia sighed with pleasure, not wanting him to stop, and turned her head so that he could get access to the other ear. Her eyes fluttered open, blurring slightly, then focusing sharply on the interested face of Charley, peeping around the open back door!

CHAPTER EIGHT

JULIA gave a strangled squawk and heaved with all her might at the rock-solid chest above her. Hugh didn’t budge an inch, but he did look over his shoulder to see what had brought on her sudden protest. At the sight of Charley he made a brief murmur and straightened, sliding his hands but from under Julia’s sweater with unhurried ease.

‘Did one of you explode?’ Charley grinned, venturing on to the slippery kitchen floor. Oh yes, he was definitely growing up. Two years ago he would have melted in embarrassment, but now it was Julia who blushed, rolling off the table and yanking at her suggestively rumpled sweater.

‘An accident with my blender,’ Julia managed huskily, thrusting a tangle of curls off her hot brow.

‘Oh. Are you OK?’ Charley knew all about her jinx.

‘I wasn’t kissing her for medical reasons, Charley, if that’s what’s worrying you,’ Hugh cut in smoothly. Julia sent him a speaking look. He sounded quite unruffled, yet a few moments ago he had been practically raping her on the kitchen table. Well, not raping exactly … whatever the definition, he had no right to behave with such calm when Julia was still flushed and aroused, her heart pounding fit to burst.

‘Were you looking for me?’ she asked Charley, trying to get a grip on reality.

He was. He wanted to take the VW for a test run, and not having obtained his drivers’ licence yet, he wanted Julia to drive him. To her surprise Hugh stepped in again, this time to offer his services as chauffeur while Julia cleaned up the kitchen. Charley appeared so pleased Julia didn’t have the heart to argue, but she couldn’t help feeling somewhat put out as the two males wandered out in companionable conversation, ignoring her pique.

So frantic was she for the rest of the evening, salvaging her chicken recipe, that Julia quite forgot about Hugh’s typewriter. It wasn’t until she joined the others in the lounge for pre-dinner drinks and saw Hugh attired in yet another immaculate suit that she remembered. Hell!

Accepting a sherry from Michael, Julia felt a niggle of disquiet as she saw that Hugh was holding one too. He wasn’t the teetotaller she had thought, she had discovered that when they went out to dinner together, but he drank only sparingly, and never when he had work to do. Did that—gulp—mean that his typewriter was still out of action? Julia sneaked a look at his face. As usual unreadable, though the grey eyes were narrowed on her in a most unsettling way. She flashed him a quick, nervous smile, then regretted it when he began to move across the room towards her.

‘What a lovely dress, Julia,’ she heard Olivia beside her exclaim. In honour of the occasion Julia had put on the only long dress she had brought with her—a pure-silk butterfly dress. ‘It’s hand-painted isn’t it? What a fabulous design. Where did you get it?’

‘Umm, in Auckland,’ said Julia distractedly as Hugh joined their little group. ‘Browns Mill actually, you know, the craft place. The designer specialises in unique, hand-painted silks.’

‘As unique and as beautiful as the woman who’s wearing it,’ Richard chipped in lavishly. ‘Ah … “she hangs upon the cheek of the night like a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear”.’

‘Your Herrick put it far more aptly, I think, Richard.’ Julia held her breath at Hugh’s quiet interjection. Avoiding his gaze her eyes sank to the injured hand holding his glass. There was a faint, dark smudge on his wrist. Ink? Oh dear … Nervously she watched his other hand reach out to catch one of the fluttering points of her sleeve, pulling it so that she had to turn to fully face him. She didn’t know quite what she was expecting, but his first, soft words had her eyes rearing, startled, to his.

‘ “When as in silks my Julia goes,

Then, then (me thinks) how sweetly flowes

That liquifaction of her clothes.

Next, when I cast mine eyes and see

That brave vibration each way free;