'And these are service apartments with high security. If I hadn't told Tom who you were you would never get in or out of the building. Mind you, the idea of keeping you as a prisoner in my penthouse does have some appeal,' he drawled cynically. 'It's probably the only way to keep you faithful.'
'Coming from you, that's rich,' she snapped back. The lift stopped and Jake shot her a hard look, but ignored her comment.
'Tom will bring up the cases later. Come on.' And, catching her hand in his, he led her across a deeply carpeted hall to a large double door, the only one on the landing.
Eyes wide, she stared around the huge room. It had a very masculine feel about it. Large bookshelves covered one wall, with a motley collection of ornaments fighting for a place among the books.
Her lips quirked in the beginnings of a smile as she spied an autographed football. Jake had always been mad about the game. A small paperweight of Caithness crystal caught her attention, and she instantly sobered. She had bought it for Jake's birthday years ago.
A large, well-used but excellent quality hide sofa stood one side of the beautifully carved mahogany surround of the big fireplace. A couple of over-stuffed winged chairs were set at the other side with a small table between them. The pictures dotted around the walls were a splash of vivid colour against the overall impression of brown and beige. Jake obviously liked modern art and she recognised a Hockney.
'Welcome to my home, Katy, and allow me to introduce you. This is Mrs Charles, my treasure; she is also Tom's wife. Miss Meldenton,' he introduced formally.
'I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs Charles.' Katy tried a polite smile, but the older lady merely twisted her lips in response—more a grimace of disgust than a smile.
'Dinner is waiting, Mr Granton,' his housekeeper informed Jake, the coldness in her tone making her feeling on the situation abundantly clear, and with a brief nod to Katy she disappeared through the door behind her.
'She's a marvellous cook, so don't upset her,' Jake said bluntly.
'I wouldn't dare,' she responded drily. Jake had made her position in his home very clear, somewhere beneath that of chief cook and bottle-washer.
'Come along, I'll show you around.' He took her wrist, and led her through the big homely lounge to a smaller formal dining-room.
She had a startling impression of scarlet walls and polished mahogany furniture before he ushered her through to an inner hall. Four doors opened off it, but when he threw open the first one with a flourish she guessed it was the master bedroom.
Her steps faltered as she entered the room. A huge king-sized bed with a deep maroon Paisley-patterned duvet dominated the space. The soft silkiness of Jake's voice unnerved her.
'Our bedroom.' He dropped her wrist and gestured with one strong hand to the right. 'Dressing-room and bathroom off. I'll leave you to make yourself at home. I think I heard Tom arrive with your luggage.' Katy shivered as he reached out, his fingers undoing the top button of the shirt-styled dress she had worn all day. He watched her reaction, amusement tilting his wide mouth. 'You probably want to freshen up before dinner,' he said smoothly, and walked away.
Hysterical laughter threatened to engulf her. 'Make yourself at home... freshen up,' he had said. What for? she thought wildly, her gaze fixed on the large bed.
Katy was dreaming. Once again she was eighteen, and Jake, her friend, her lover, was with her. His lips, gentle as wild silk against her skin, trailed warm kisses over her eyelids, the soft curve of her cheek. Her full lips parted in anticipation as he finally reached her mouth. His tongue flicked leisurely against her teeth, stroked the sensitive roof of her mouth, and her own tongue danced round his in a welcoming caress. Her slender arms moved tentatively in a well-remembered path around his broad back, her fingers reaching up to tangle in the soft black hair of his head.
Once more she felt every pore of her skin open with tingling warmth at his touch. The strong masculine hand curved lovingly around her full breast; his teasing fingers plucked at the sensitised rosy tips, bringing them to pebble-hard turgid peaks.
She arched against the hard heat of him as his lips blazed a trail of fire down her throat, and his mouth suckled hungrily at her aching breasts, first one and then the other, until she was dizzy with desire.
His hand slid down over her stomach and across her thighs, taking her nightgown with it. She shuddered as his long fingers strok
ed across her inner thigh and found the hot liquid centre of her femininity. She moaned deep in her throat at the exquisite pleasure, her nails digging into his flesh. How many times over the years had she had this dream? And always it ended with her awake and alone...
Katy's eyelids fluttered open, the blood singing in her ears. She didn't want to wake up, to lose this ecstasy. 'Oh, Jake!' she murmured.
'Yes, Katy, yes; open for me.' The deep rasping voice vibrated against her lips. 'You want me, you know you do. You are so hot, so moist, so ready.'
It was no dream. She was awake and in bed with Jake. She had to stop him, but as the thought pierced her drugged senses so Jake nudged apart her legs. She shuddered again and again as his fingers teased and tormented her. It was way, way too late to stop him, and, God help her, she didn't want to.
His mouth closed over hers, his tongue fierce and seeking, and her response was immediate. Her body arched helplessly beneath him. She looked up into his dark eyes only inches from her own, and her heart stopped for a moment; the ferocious gleam of unabashed passion and more—a fiercely controlled anger-made her hesitate.
Sensing her brief withdrawal, he growled, 'No, Katy, not this time,' his stormy glance skimming down the length of her as he rolled over and between her thighs. His powerful body trapped her beneath him; she couldn't have moved even if she had wanted to. Dream or reality—what did it matter? She wanted him...
Katy could not deny him; his first touch had set free four long years of hunger. She was on fire for him. His dark body hair acted as a tingling abrasive on her over-sensitised flesh as his hands roamed at will over her curvaceous body. The hard rigid length of his manhood pushed against her inner thigh, but no further. She ached for his possession, and writhed beneath him, her nails sinking into his broad shoulders in fierce appeal.
Once more his mouth captured her swollen lips with a savage hunger, his weight came down upon her and she was crushed back into the bed, but still he did not take her. He raised his head, his sensuous lips quirked in a wickedly determined smile. 'You will remember this for the rest of your days, Katy,' he grated, masculine triumph edging his tone.
One hand stroked up to the engorged tip of her breast and once more his mouth descended to it. His teeth bit lightly and she jerked involuntarily; she was lost in a wild sensuous game where only Jake knew the rules. He brought her to the brink of pleasure-pain over and over again as he explored every inch of her with a salacious intimacy she had never known was possible. His mouth once more covered hers, his tongue thrusting in a insinuating rhythm, but still he held back. He broke the kiss and raised his head, his black eyes, molten with desire and something more, fixed on her love-swollen lips.
'How many other men have seen you like this, I wonder...' a hard sheen of sweat glistened on his bronzed skin '... have made you feel like this?'