He turned and pulled her into his arms, the relief so intense he almost ached with it. A tremor shuddered through her body, and at the realisation that her need matched his own all words fled his brain.
Instinct took over, and their movements were made clumsy by urgency as together they pulled at the cushions and blankets, making a makeshift bed on the stone floor.
For a fleeting second he considered the irony of that decadent four-poster bed.
As if she could read his mind, April shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. All that matters is this.’
She stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his and he realised she was right. Nothing mattered except the sensual sweetness of her lips, her touch on the nape of his neck, t
he silken strands of her hair under his fingers, the press of her body against his. All that mattered was April.
She gave a small moan as he deepened the kiss, and her fingers slid under his T-shirt and over his chest. His groan mingled with hers and he gently tumbled her down onto the makeshift bed.
And then all was lost.
The danger of the storm was forgotten, though their awareness of the fragility of life burned with an intensity that somehow meshed with desire and strengthened their visceral, primitive need to meld together, to give and receive pleasure...
CHAPTER TEN
APRIL AWOKE AND tried to remember where the hell she was as she inhaled the lingering aroma of vanilla mixed with the scent of cold stone and herbs and spices. The events of the previous day...the previous night—who knew?—flooded back, and for a moment she wondered if they had been a dream. No! It had all been real: the passion, the shared soft laughter and the swoop and soar of joy.
But now...now it was over.
No regrets, she reminded herself. Those hours in his arms couldn’t be rued—or repeated.
Opening her eyes, she realised it had been Marcus who had awoken her. Marcus who was standing up, already dressed in jeans. She felt heat tinge her face at the sheer glory of his body. He smiled down at her, a genuine upturn of his lips, but it held a hint of wariness matched by the expression in his dark blue eyes.
‘Morning,’ he said.
‘Good morning.’ Deep breath. ‘What now?’
For a second she hoped he would lie down again, so that they could resume where they’d left off. But that wasn’t the agreement and, more to the point...
‘Do you think the storm is over?’
‘I’m hoping so. I haven’t heard any sounds in the past few hours to indicate that it made its way in, but either way I think it’s time to check.’
It occurred to her that he hadn’t slept; she felt incredulity that she had. But she had. Exhausted, sated, and most embarrassingly safe, she’d fallen asleep in his arms.
‘Good plan. I’ll get ready.’
By which she meant somehow transform herself from fully unclothed to fully dressed. Given the fact that the storm might have caused untold havoc, and given what they had done just hours before, April knew it was ridiculous to feel a sense of awkwardness. But, like it or not, she did.
As if he sensed the problem, he gathered up her clothes without comment or any trace of discomfort and handed them to her, then turned away as she wriggled around under the blankets. Perversely, his tact twanged a nerve—he could at least cast a furtive look in her direction, try to sneak a final glance. Only Marcus didn’t work like that. It was physical satisfaction followed by a walk away without a backward glance.
‘Ready?’ he asked, as if he couldn’t wait to take those first steps.
‘Ready.’
As they both reached the door he halted. ‘April. About last night...’
She shook her head. ‘I told you I agreed to your terms. Hell, I wanted your terms. Now it’s time for the walking away part. We can’t walk away from each other quite yet, but we can walk away from what happened. With no regrets. At all.’
‘Good. Let’s go and see what’s happened.’
Trepidation filled her as he pushed the larder door open and they stepped out. The kitchen was untouched, their barricade still against the door. Swiftly they moved forward, shifted the table and stepped into the corridor.
‘Oh.’