The blood pounded in her ears. She would have to be alone with him! “O-Of course.”
“I’ll say goodnight then.” Seth blew her a kiss and then he wheeled away, Hazel following him.
As soon as the double front door with the etched glass windows shut behind them, Kathleen faced Erik belligerently. “Must you see the pool?”
“Absolutely.” The well-mannered mask had been dropped. His features were set and hard. He gripped her arm and virtually dragged her along after him. She tripped and stumbled in her high-heeled sandals and finally gasped his name.” Let go of me,” she said. It did no good. He neither slowed down nor relieved the pressure on her arm.
When they were past the cabana beside the pool, he flung her against the dark side of the building and pinned her there with his body.
His hands came up to each side of her face, not in a gentle gesture but in an imprisoning one, crushing. His face was fearsome. She had seen it that way once before, just as he was about to slug the two cowboys in the lounge at the Crescent Hotel.
“I want to know. And I want to know now. Is he my son?” The voice wasn’t Erik’s. It wasn’t the same voice that had lulled her to sleep while whispering love words in her ear. This voice vibrated with fury and hatred.
She struggled against him but his body only thrust against her harder, and he flattened her arms on either side of her head with iron fists that threatened to crack her fragile wrist bones. “Answer me, damn you! When is his birthday? Your little accident in there isn’t going to prevent me from finding out.”
He thought she had spilled the coffee on purpose! “Let me go.” The words were literally pushed past her lips, which were rigid with anger.
“Not a chance,” he growled. “Not until you tell me the truth. Is he my son?”
He pressed against her, and despite her anger, that tight coil of desire that had lain dormant inside her for two years slowly began to uncurl and wind through her body with an awareness of the hard muscles, the masculine scent, the virility that speared into her belly.
She fought it. She closed her eyes briefly, partly to block out his furious face so close to hers. “Would it make a difference?” she asked at last in what she hoped was a disparaging tone.
“To a lying slut like you, probably not. But it does to me.”
She choked on a sob. How cruel and unfair he was. She had loved him! He was the one who had been unfaithful, cheating on his wife. Yet he insulted her like this.
Kathleen wanted to hurt him the way she had been hurt. “Yes!” she hissed. “He’s your son. And a fat lot of good it’ll do you to know it.” Her head went back against the hard surface of the wall and she defied him with every fiber of her being.
First his face revealed suspicion as he searched her own features for signs of deception. Then a look of wonder and awe broke across the face that she loved. An infinite sadness replaced that. Finally, the anger returned as he snarled down at her, “I wonder if Seth knows what a hot little number his wife is?”
Again Kathleen struggled, and again it was futile to expect escape. “You called me that once before. It wasn’t true then and it isn’t true now. You know nothing about me, Erik.”
His head lowered a fraction and he brushed across her forehead with his mustache. “Don’t I?” he breathed. “I can prove how well I know you.”
“No,” Kathleen begged softly as she felt his thigh insinuating itself between hers. “No,” she said again, wanting to convince herself. His hard thigh was pressing her to the wall, rubbing against her femininity through the thin silk pants.
His thumbs made mesmerizing circles on the pulse points of her wrists until her balled fists relaxed. He covered her palms with his, making even that simple touch erotic. His breath was hot and agitated against her face as he promised, “I’ll exorcise you from my mind yet, you hot little… hot… hot…” His mouth took hers hungrily, working her lips apart with his tongue.
Kathleen made outraged sounds deep in her throat that soon changed and became little more than murmurs of ecstasy. His hands traveled from her palms, down her arms to her shoulders, then around her back to lower the short zipper of her top. Weakened by the power of his kiss, she didn’t—couldn’t—resist. Nor did she want to.
He pulled down the strapless blouse. Her breasts spilled into his waiting hands. He buried his face in the deep cleavage, drinking up the intoxicating fragrance and reveling in the texture of her skin as he massaged her gently. His mouth closed around her, eager and wet, and she arched against the long, strong leg between her own.
He found the dusky center of her breast, which was swollen and tingling with passion, and worried it further with his tongue. Then he suckled her gently, drawing on her sweetly, begging for sustenance. Unconsciously, her arms went around his neck, pulling his head nearer and holding it there. At the small of her back, she felt his hands lifting her onto his thigh.
He strained against her and urged her with beseeching hands under her hips. Upward. Closer. Wider. The hard bulge in his trousers fit snugly into her welcoming vulnerability. Only clothing prevented the sexual union from being complete. He moved. She responded with an answering pressure. Most intimately, his body stroked hers.
Kathleen felt herself being drawn into that frenzied height she had not forgotten. She flew toward it before she was aware of her flight and in control enough to call herself back.
Her fingers dug into the muscles of his back, and she rotated her hips against that beloved invader between her thighs. His mouth withdrew from her breasts a fraction and only his tongue remained to lash gently at her nipples. The tumult rolled over her, bathing her with liquid fire. “Erik, Erik,” she cried as each spasm seized her.
When it was over, she clung to him limply while she gasped for breath. His own breathing was ragged against her neck. Her fingers wound through the golden strands of his hair, which she had memorized by touch long ago. “Erik,” she sighed in exhaustion, replete with love.
Suddenly, he slung her away from him against the wall. The lips that had brought her so much pleasure moments before were now curled in cynical derision. “You see, Kathleen,” he mocked. “You’ve just proven my point. You are no fit mother for my son.”
* * *
Days later Kathleen was still distraught over what had happened. She didn’t even want to listen to Eliot as he persistently shook the invoices under her nose.