Forbidden Loving

The soft sounds of her wonderment and pleasure seemed to be all the encouragement he needed, and when his lips finally, tenderly possessed the eager excitement of her tautly erect nipple, the little whimpers of shocked delight she tried to strangle in her throat caused him to draw the hot, aching nub of flesh fully into his mouth and to draw on it so erotically that the sensation made her cry out loud in shocked recognition of her own need.

Immediately she made that high keening sound, Silas’s hands—which had been caressing th

e slender roundness of her hips, stimulating her sensitive flesh so that her whole body quivered with responsiveness to him—stilled, just as his mouth ceased caressing her breast.

Bewilderment, anger, disbelief, but most of all anguished humiliation swept through her as he slowly withdrew from her, silently re-covering her with her towel, his glance fixed on a point somewhere beyond her shoulder as he said roughly, ‘I’m sorry. I should never…’ He got up, moving away from her, while she lay on her bed, frozen with misery and rejection, not knowing what she had said or done to provoke his withdrawal from her.

‘I… I have to go out,’ he told her quietly. ‘I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’

Unable to move, to speak, to do anything other than simply close her eyes on the anguish she was feeling, Hazel heard him go.

Even when she had heard the sound of his car engine fading away, she still dared not allow herself to breathe properly, still dared not allow herself to move.

Inside her body ached tormentingly, adding to the burdens of self-contempt and shock she was already carrying.

Dear God, how could she have behaved like that? How could she have been so…so wanton? And when she had already told him that she didn’t want him.

Well, he knew the truth now. Knew that she had lied. No wonder he had withdrawn from her in such disgust.

Shakily she got off the bed, her body weak and drained, her hands trembling as she dressed herself.

What would have happened if he hadn’t stopped when he had? If he, like her, had been so overwhelmed by need, by desire. By love!

She sat down on her bed, covering her face with her hands, her body shaking with silent sobs of despair as she acknowledged the truth.

She had fallen in love with Silas. It wasn’t simply desire that motivated her. It wasn’t simply some belated awakening of her senses, of her desires, responding to the proximity of a very attractive male.

She had fallen in love. Vividly she recalled the first moment she had seen him, the emotions she had felt then—had felt and had tried to suppress, believing that he and Katie were lovers. It was too late now to wish she had never met him; to wish that what she was feeling now had remained something she had never experienced.

Her burgeoning emotions were a thousand times more painful than the most acute attack of pins and needles, tormenting her into an agony of misery and depression.

It was a long time before she felt able to go downstairs. Her body felt oddly weak, and yet at the same time she was acutely conscious of how it still ached, still yearned.

When Silas did not return for supper, she realised that he was trying to keep as much distance between them as he could. She went to bed early, determined to do the same, but she couldn’t sleep. She heard him come in when the hands of her alarm clock showed the time at just gone midnight. Where had he been? Had he been alone?

Jealousy ate into her like acid fire, showing her yet another hitherto unknown side of her nature. It was a long, long time before she managed to get to sleep.

* * *

FOR THREE DAYS they continued to avoid one another, meeting briefly in the kitchen in the morning over breakfast, when she was meticulous about responding to whatever conversational comments Silas made to her with monosyllabic answers and an averted profile. It was far too late for her to do anything about the fact that he must be aware of her desire for him, but at least she could salvage something of her pride by ensuring that that was all he knew…by keeping herself aloof, and showing him that no matter what her weaknesses might be she was adult enough to control and withstand them. And yet just to see him, just to hear his voice, just to know he was in the house with her, caused the most idiotic and useless weakening within her, the most appalling, yearning desire.

If this was love, she had been better off when she had had no knowledge of it, she decided bitterly one morning as she parked her car and headed for the supermarket entrance, her heart sinking as she was immediately hailed by Sheila Simpson.

Sheila Simpson was the very last person she felt like speaking to today. All she really wanted was to be left alone. To wallow in her misery and self-pity? She smiled bitterly to herself.

‘My goodness, you are a dark horse, aren’t you?’ Sheila exclaimed archly as she caught up with her. ‘When I asked if you were expecting guests, I had no idea… I mean I assumed…’

Hazel focused on her, her eyes blank with dismissal.

‘What exactly is it you’re trying to imply, Sheila?’ she asked almost sharply. Where once she would have been upset and embarrassed to confront Sheila and demand an explanation of what she was attempting to say, suddenly she felt no such restrictions. She was, after all, an adult woman, not a child. She was responsible to no one other than herself. Her father was no longer alive to be upset by any kind of reference to her sexuality.

‘Well, nothing,’ Sheila backtracked, looking slightly ruffled. ‘But if you will have a man living with you, you have to expect that people will assume—’

‘Will assume what?’ she demanded coolly. ‘That we’re lovers?’

Sheila flushed unflatteringly. ‘Well, yes,’ she agreed, looking uncomfortable. ‘Of course I’ve said that there’s no truth in that kind of gossip. But you know what people are…’

‘I know what some people are,’ Hazel agreed pointedly, sweeping past her, as she added acidly, ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, Sheila, I really must get on with my shopping.’