"Do you still love him Lydia?" She froze as his voice murmured the words in her ear, but he moved her slightly from him so he could see her face and she saw his eyes were determined. "Do you?"
"Not in the way you mean." It was the truth, and carried an unmistakable genuineness, but his mouth still tightened at her reply.
"What the hell am I supposed to read into that?" he asked grimly, and then as she opened her mouth to tell him the whole of it, that she had been without Matthew for three years, that she was a widow, he put his finger on her lips and pulled her roughly against him again.
"No, don't answer that. I'd rather not know."
"But, Wolf--' _" I said no. “As he took her mouth it was almost as though there was pain in his desire, his lips hard against hers, savage even, but then, as the
lift drew smoothly to a halt and the doors opened, he lifted his head and scooped her into his arms, carrying her across the few feet of corridor and setting her down with one arm tightly round her waist as he unlocked the door.
"Wolf--' " No--don't talk, don't think. For once just do what you want to do. "
He drew her inside and immediately kissed her again, his hands running over her back in a soft feathery caress that brought a million nerve-endings into glorious life.
"And you want to make love with me, don't you?" He touched her aching breasts lightly.
"Don't you, Lydia?" he persisted softly.
"I can't--' " Yes, you can. “As his hands shaped the fullness of her breasts through the soft material of the wool dress she felt flames of fire wherever he touched, her arousal immediate. She couldn't believe the way her body reacted to his; nothing in life so far had prepared her for the onslaught of fierce physical desire that coursed through her small frame, leaving her trembling and shaking in his arms.
He began to explore her mouth with experienced, teasing caresses, his lips and tongue first soft and light, then hard and thrusting until she felt a heat rising inside her that had to have release. His mouth wandered to her ears, her throat, finding secret erode places that had her moaning in his arms as the warmth" of his lips worked a magic she found it impossible to resist. He was good, much, much too good at this.
She found she was clinging to his hard-muscled shoulders as much for support as the pleasure of having his _powerful body beneath her hands, the smell and taste of him all-encompassing. And he was making no attempt to hide his reaction to their lovemaking, his desire urgent and unashamed and his arousal obvious as he moulded her into the length of his lean, muscled body.
There was something breathtakingly satisfying in knowing that she could make this tough, fascinatingly masculine man want her so badly.
The knowledge was dangerously erotic, heady.
"I need you, Lydia. I'm sleeping, eating, living you..." His breath was warm and clean against her throat as he covered her skin in tiny, passionate kisses in between each word.
"It's driving me crazy." She melted against him, unable to stand any longer, and as he lowered her gently on to the thick carpet she felt his hands slide up the satin-smooth skin of her legs.
"I want you and you want me; it's as simple as that;' As simple as that? She twisted under him, moving to the side and then away as she scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding. Simple, like with all those other women? A sating of bodily need, a physical release? What was she doing? What was she doing^
“No.” She stared at him, her eyes huge pools of tortured darkness in the pale delicacy of her face, her lips trembling.
"I can't..."
"Lydia--' As he took a step towards her, his body as taut as a rod and his face working with a hundred different emotions, she backed from him desperately, her hand to her mouth. He stopped instantly.
"Don't look ^like that, I'm not going to hurt you," he said furiously, his eyes bleak.
Hurt her? She felt a moment's hysteria before she brought it sharply under control. He had the power to destroy her, never mind hurt her.
"Leave me alone." She backed from him across the room.
"I can't be what you want me to be, I can't just..." She waved her hand feverishly in the air.
"It has to mean something. I'm sorry." She felt the handle of her door beneath her fingers and turned to stumble through, her eyes streaming with tears, blind and deaf to everything but her own humiliation, shame and misery. How could she have come so close to betraying herself like that? So close to sleeping with him when she knew it would mean less than nothing to him, merely another in the long line of temporary diversions, a physical sating of the senses that would be forgotten as soon as the bodily need was eased. He had told her what he wanted in his relationships, he had spelled it out loud and clear.
She had no excuses, none at all.
As the door closed behind her Wolf stood exactly where she had left him, his mouth a white slash in the hard line of his jaw.
"It has to mean something." He drove his clenched fist against the palm of his hand, his face savage. And it clearly wouldn't with him. And why?
Because she still loved that damn fool who had walked out on her, on her and the young child who was Lydia in miniature. This had to be the ultimate irony in his life so far. But now he knew exactly where he stood. He strode across the room and poured himself another j half-tumbler of whisky, taking the bottle with him as he walked into his bedroom and shutting the door with a savage kick.