Читать книгу The Abby Green Modern Collection - Эбби Грин - Страница 16

JOHN, Caleb’s driver, was waiting with the car at the small private airport. Maggie was glad of the distraction of having someone else to talk to as Caleb stood outside the car taking a phone call for a few minutes. In the course of their conversation, Maggie discovered that John had lost his entire family in a tragic accident some ten years previously. He had been working for someone else in the company, but when Caleb had heard the news he’d made John his own driver and now brought him everywhere.

‘To tell the truth, love, I don’t know what I would have done. He kept me going and there were times…’ He stopped and his eyes grew moist. Maggie stretched a hand out to his shoulder in sympathy.

‘Sorry, love, it’s still…’He recovered and cast a glance out of the car. ‘He’s a good man. He’ll look after you. Loyal to a fault, I’d say. Far too easy on some of them that’s tried to put one over on him…’

Caleb slipped back into the car at that moment and John winked at Maggie, lightening the atmosphere, before turning around to drive them into town. She went over his words. Well, Caleb certainly had a fan there. She couldn’t fault his behaviour with the man. But she didn’t want to know nice things about him; she wanted pettishly for everyone to hate him, to confirm that he was cynical and ruthless.

His voice broke into her thoughts. ‘John, drop me off at the office—I have some meetings lined up for the afternoon—then bring Maggie home.’

In the car outside his offices, he turned to Maggie. ‘I’ll be back about seven and I’ll bring the contract. So why don’t you burn some water and we can celebrate later?’

Maggie flushed under his pointed gaze that wouldn’t let her escape, knowing John could hear their conversation. ‘Fine.’

When he was gone, she sat back and breathed properly for the first time that day. Her mind and stomach churned. At least she had a few hours to get control of herself. When they pulled up outside the apartment building, Maggie took her bag from John and watched as he drove away with a cheery wave.

She took a spin out to see her mother that afternoon, to confirm for herself that she was all right. She was so ecstatic and happy and relaxed that Maggie felt real relief for the first time. She was almost a changed woman; she even looked different from the last time Maggie had seen her. Younger. This was her proof, her motivation. She was doing the right thing. She knew it. She was heartened for the first time in days as she drove back into town.

Back in the apartment, she decided she couldn’t be bothered lying about her ability to cook and made a wild mushroom risotto. Cooking always relaxed her and she needed all the help she could get. Having reluctantly skipped over an old pair of comfy jeans and plain shirt, she figured she’d better dress as he’d expect. So she stood now in the kitchen and felt ridiculously uncomfortable in a silk shirt and light tweed trousers. Her hair, despite her having tried to tame it back into a tidy bun, was already tousled at the nape of her neck. When Caleb walked in, the carpet muffling his entrance, that was what he saw.

Maggie was stirring something in a pot, bending low to smell, a small frown on her face. Then she straightened and started chopping spring onions for a salad. The dexterity with which she chopped told him, as a keen cook himself, that she was no novice. He ignored the strange ache in his chest just from looking at her.

‘The burnt water smells surprisingly appetising,’ he drawled dryly.

She jumped and whirled around. But quickly regained her composure. He could see that there was tension in the lines of her body that hadn’t been there seconds before and bizarrely hated the fact that he had done that.

‘Yes…well, I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of thinking you had a live-in cook as well as a mistress. But, as it happens, I can cook quite well.’

‘Good. Because I’m starving. I’ll have a shower and join you.’

Maggie shrugged negligently, as if she didn’t care, but since he’d surprised her at the door her pulse had been thumping out of control.

When he’d gone she ran her wrists under the cold tap to try and calm her pulse. She lifted her hands to her hot cheeks. She was a wreck. Images, fantasies, erotic pictures were taking control of every corner of her brain. She was a walking hormone. She set out the cutlery and a bottle of wine because she knew he’d expect it, but vowed only to have a little herself so that she was in complete control.

And then he was there. He’d dressed down as she would have preferred to, in faded jeans and a T-shirt that was taut across his muscled chest. Wet hair curling just above the collar. His potency, the raw sexuality, reached across the room and called to her, made her want to walk over, sink into him.

‘What can I do?’

She shut her eyes for a split second at the lurid images that jumped into her mind’s eye at his question. Her voice, when it came, was husky. ‘You could bring the salad through; everything else is here.’

Her appetite had just disappeared.

He brought it in and they sat down. Caleb poured them both a glass of wine and lifted his glass high. ‘To tonight.’

Maggie blanched and took a deep breath. She just nodded in response. And took a big gulp of wine. So much for her good intentions.

He took a mouthful of the risotto and a look of disbelief came over his face. ‘Maggie, this is really good. Where did you learn to do this? Do you know how hard it is to get this right?’

She blushed with acute pleasure and couldn’t stop a grin. ‘Really?’

‘Really. I’ve eaten in some of the best restaurants in Italy and they certainly haven’t done risotto as well as this.’

With pleasure fizzing through her at his rare approval, she explained, ‘I worked as a chef’s assistant when I was working my way through college. In return for portraits of his family, he gave me extra lessons.’

‘Worked your way through college?’ Those eyes were narrowed speculatively on hers. She thought quickly. Tom had had millions. Money shouldn’t have been an object. Maggie had always refused it, though, seeing it as tantamount to blood money, despite her mother’s pleas to let him help her.

She shrugged lightly. ‘I thought I wanted to prove to Tom that I could do it on my own, but I soon got bored…’ The next words killed her when she thought of the awful bedsit she’d lived in, cockroaches everywhere. ‘But of course I didn’t last long. Why take the hard way?’

‘Why, indeed?’ Caleb seemed happy to let it drop. As if she’d jumped out of the box he had her in, but was now safely back inside. They both took another sip of wine.

She had to try and keep him off personal subjects. She was too inclined to speak quickly and openly. He was far too easy to talk to. Like the lunch they’d had in Monte Carlo, they slipped into a light conversation, skating across several subjects. When Caleb poured the last of the wine into her glass she wondered how they’d drunk the whole bottle. She could feel the mellow aftermath through her bones and wanted to wake up. Stay alert.

‘I’ll make some coffee.’ She went to get up and Caleb stayed her with a hand.

‘No. You made dinner; I’ll do the coffee. Sit on the couch and I’ll bring it in.’

His easy courtesy unsettled her. She watched as he proceeded to clear the table and then she heard him moving around the kitchen. She did as he’d said and sat on the couch. That was when she saw it on the table, low down near her feet. The contract. That sobered her up more quickly than any coffee could. She picked it up warily and flicked through it. There, in stark black and white, were the hideous words…

Margaret Holland…become the mistress of Caleb Cameron for two months only…from this date…and the house in question at the following address…revert to the name of Fidelma Holland…but only when said relations have…

Nausea rose. Now that it was in front of her in black and white, she couldn’t actually believe that he’d had the gall to draw this up…with the advice of a solicitor? With witnesses? And there were the lines for their signatures. As bold and impersonal and dry as the way her mouth felt right now. Even if she was the one that had begged for their house…had created this situation…this was too much.

He came into the room and Maggie carefully placed it back on the table. He followed her movements as he put down the coffee cups. She picked hers up and placed chilled hands around it, feeling a shudder go through her system.

‘So you’ve seen it.’ His voice came low and implacable from her right.

‘Yes. Which is, no doubt, what you expected when you directed me over here.’

She could feel him tense beside her. ‘I didn’t, actually. I’d forgotten I’d put it down. But what’s the problem, Maggie? Isn’t this what you wanted?’

She put down the coffee jerkily and sprang up away from the couch, willing herself desperately not to cry. ‘No! It’s not what I wanted. I never wanted any of this. None of it. And certainly not for my private details to be pored over by complete strangers.’

He stood too. She spun away, oblivious to the spectacular backdrop of the city lights starting to come on outside. He came and whirled her round to face him.

‘I’m sorry, Maggie, but this is a direct result of your actions. Six months ago you played with fire and now you’re getting burnt.’

She was burning up all right.

He captured her close, two harsh hands on her arms. ‘You want me, Maggie, as much as I want you. Can you deny it?’

Miserable, intoxicated by his closeness, the contract fading into the background, she couldn’t move. He shifted subtly so that she was pressed tight up against the length of him. He brought his hands down her arms and then her two hands were captured behind her back with one of his.

‘You want me, don’t you?’ With his other hand he brushed back a tendril of hair from her face, then threaded through it to cradle her head. She had to fight against wanting to let it sink, fall into his hand. Her body flamed into life everywhere it connected with his…but she wanted to make sure he knew she was fighting it all the way. Had to. It was her only defence.

After seeing that contract, she had a bare thread of dignity left and this was it.

‘Yes…’ The word was wrung harshly from her. ‘I may want you on the outside, but know that on the inside I’m hating you with every breath I take.’

A tension and stillness came into his body. A savage look passed over his face so quickly she might have imagined it. Then his look narrowed and, with his eyes so intensely blue on hers that it hurt, he said, ‘Then it’s just as well it’s not your heart I’m after. Just your body. It’s time to finish what you started that night, Maggie.’

His cruelly stark words seared her alive. An ache closed the back of her throat as he bent and took her mouth in a possessive, punishing kiss. And while her foolish, weak body rejoiced in the contact, her heart made a lie of her words—every beat telling her what she didn’t want to know, what she didn’t want to face up to. What she couldn’t face up to yet. His mouth finally gentled and he freed her hands at last, where she hesitated for one weak, desperate moment before giving in under his sensual onslaught and the inevitability of her situation, which meant she couldn’t walk away again. She had no choice. She was on a course that was destined to come to its conclusion. A course that she had put them on. A course Tom had put them on six months ago.

As much as they conversely wanted to punch against him for making her feel like this, those treacherous hands climbed up over his chest, up again…until they were around his neck, fingers tangling in the silky strands of hair that brushed his T-shirt. Knowing that somewhere within her all was lost, she gave into what she had for now. And what she had was him—kissing her, making love to her. She pressed close, as close as she could, and wound her arms even tighter round his neck, her kisses matching his, passion for passion. This was all she’d have. His contempt and his passion. So she’d take it.

Caleb pulled back for a moment; he could feel Maggie trembling violently in his arms, had felt something run through her. ‘Hey…slow down.’ He felt as though he should be comforting her. The light of something very guarded in her eyes caught him and held him; she reminded him of a cornered animal, fighting to protect itself. But that was crazy…

‘I’m sorry, I just…I…’

With a finger to her lips, he silenced her. If he didn’t know better he’d say she was overwhelmed, inexperienced…but then dismissed that notion. An act. It had to be. For some reason it was vitally important.

Her uneven breaths were pushing her breasts against him. He trailed one finger down her heated cheek, around the delicate line of her jaw and down, over her collar-bone, to where the first button held her shirt together. Not allowing her to pull away, he flipped it open, then the next, then the next. He could feel her breath growing more ragged but at least that awful desperation seemed to have gone. That enigmatic light in her eyes had now been replaced by something much more recognisable. Desire.

The shirt fell open to reveal a simple plain sheer bra. He could see the pink aureoles of her nipples, beading, puckering around the tight tips. He brought up his hand and traced the line of her breast, staying away from the sensitive centre, down into the valley, over the mound that spilled from the top, and then finally, slowly, down to where the nipples had grown even harder, tighter.

Maggie was biting into her bottom lip, a shudder running through her, a faint sign of perspiration on her brow as one thumb rotated around that aureole, before finally coming to the centre of where all of her nerve-endings were screaming for release. With a thumb and forefinger, he pinched gently and Maggie felt her legs buckle. Caleb caught her and, just feet away from them, brought her over and lowered her on to the couch. Her response was testing his control to the limit. She lay back and watched as he pulled his T-shirt impatiently over his head, revealing his perfect torso.

He put his hands over hers at her sides and pressed a quick kiss to her mouth, before moving down, lips over her neck, the thumping pulse and down, into the valley, before closing in a kiss over one aching peak. Her arms held captive, Maggie writhed with the pleasure as his mouth moved to the other side and the onslaught started all over again. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. All she was blissfully aware of was the heaven of sensations Caleb was taking her to as his mouth sucked, teeth nipped.

With a graceful movement he pulled her up and pushed the shirt from her shoulders, unhooked her bra and pulled it off. He set her back and looked his fill.

‘So beautiful.’

He traced the curves of her waist, her soft belly, and his fingers halted at the button on her trousers. He pressed her back down and came over her, his chest rubbing deliciously against her breasts. His mouth covered hers, her arms wound around his neck and their tongues met in a dance that took her breath away. The hand at her trousers undid the button. She felt constricted and wanted them off, lifting her hips to help him pull them down, kicking them free, their lips still clinging together.

He stopped and looked down, saw her plain white knickers, her slender, shapely legs. He ran a hand upwards over one silken flank and hovered close to where he wanted nothing more than to feel the evidence of her desire. He heard, felt her breath stop.

She was so beguiling, in nothing but the knickers, her whole body covered in a dusting of freckles, and he wanted her more desperately than he’d ever wanted anyone. His jeans contained his arousal…just.

In the next instant he lifted her into his arms and brought her into the bedroom. She felt curiously vulnerable to him, naked in his arms against his chest, her arms tight around his neck. Maggie marvelled dimly that she had thought that when they got to this stage she’d be paralysed with nerves…but there was a fever in her blood that drowned out anything other than Caleb…and her. It felt right. And good. As if how they had got here didn’t matter—what mattered was that they were here.

Once in the bedroom, he put her down on unsteady feet. Her eyes were dark and fathomless. He reached around and undid the pins holding her hair back and it fell in a curtain of waves and curls around her shoulders and down her back. Without taking his eyes off hers, he undid his jeans and pulled them down, stepping out of them.

He was naked. Maggie’s hot gaze moved down and took him in. He was magnificent. Having been with only one man before, she felt out of her depth…and yet, conversely…knew what to do. It was something she couldn’t even begin to figure—it was just an innate knowing. Something between her and this man. A knowing that made every cell in her body ache to have him inside her, filling her. She shook with the force of the emotion running through her and yet, to her surprise, it didn’t scare her.

She looked up for a brief moment and the expression in Caleb’s eyes set her pulse on fire. Filled with a sense of sensual adventure, emboldened by his dark look, his obvious arousal for her, she reached out, dimly wondering how on earth she had the nerve, and closed one small hand around the length of him. She could feel it pulse, jump slightly, the satin smooth skin moving against the hard shaft. Her hand looked tiny and pale around it, barely able to encircle it. She felt a liquid coil of desire within her.

She looked up into Caleb’s face and his eyes were slits; there were slashes of dark colour on each cheek bone and he struggled with his breath. The thought that she was doing this to him made her feel exultant in her sexuality.

He was gone beyond the place of reason or coherence. The intoxicating mix of her wide-eyed innocence and her obvious know-how was too much. He shook with the need to be inside her, filling her…this woman, no one else. He wouldn’t, couldn’t think of all the other men she’d done this for. It would kill him. He vowed to take her so completely that she’d never want another man again. He stopped her hand with his, his voice was guttural, hoarse. ‘Maggie…stop unless you want this to be over very quickly.’

He moved her back to the bed, tumbling her down. She watched as he came over her on two strong arms. She moved back to allow him room and then he was running his hands down, over the peaks and hollows, lingering, sometimes tracing with his mouth where his hands had been and then his mouth hovered over her belly button, his tongue flicking out to taste.

His hands reached her knickers and slowly but surely started to pull them down. They dropped on to the floor. Now she was bared completely and she felt Caleb nudge her legs open with his body. She felt a breath there, where the molten core of her was. She couldn’t look and flung an arm over her face in a fit of shyness. His hands came under her buttocks, tilting her slightly, and then she felt his tongue exploring, leaving a wet, hot trail as it crept up one inner thigh, then the other, before spreading her even further, opening her up so that his mouth…and tongue could seek and find that rock-hard small piece of flesh that no other man had ever touched with such intimacy.

When his tongue found it, circled it, sucked…she thought she’d die…and then his tongue moved down…and entered her. She tensed and arched her back. Her other hand gripped the sheets. Her breathing was so fractured and tortured she thought she might pass out. How could he do this…make her feel like this…so liquid and wanton and…? She couldn’t stop herself—the spiral was building, like a coil tightening; his tongue was harder, thrusting deeper, until finally she was pushed to the point of no return and she came, her whole body bucking in the aftershock. Her arm was still over her face; she was too mortified to look and felt tears under her eyelids at the intensity of emotion she was feeling. She could feel Caleb move up over her sensitive body and he brought her arm down. She blinked away the tears before he could see them.

He kissed her so deeply that she could taste herself on him. He was drunk on the scent of her, the taste of her, the feel of her and couldn’t wait any longer. After slipping on protection, he fought the urge to thrust in so deep and far that he’d have immediate relief. She was looking at him now, an intense look of concentration on her face which made him feel a fierce tenderness, but he was in the grip of something so powerful that he couldn’t dwell on it…or question it.

‘Don’t close your eyes, Maggie.’

She shook her head. She couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. She felt him push against her slick folds and lifted her hips to him. He brought a hand under her back, arching her to him, and pushed in further. And further. Her eyes opened wide at the exquisite sensation. He was so big…but she could feel her muscles taking him in, and then he thrust again. The entire hard length of him was within her tight embrace. She still had that look of concentration on her face, as though it was all she wanted to do—give him this pleasure. The force of how it made him feel rippled through his body.

Her legs instinctively came around his buttocks, her hands on his shoulders as he pulled out before filling her again. Her eyes on his, their gazes locked, with steady thrusts Caleb brought Maggie into another universe. Where she forgot time and space, her name, everything. He waited until her body convulsed around his and then, with beads of sweat on his brow, gave in to his own earth-shattering capitulation.

As he curled his body around Maggie’s, Caleb felt for the first time in his life as if he’d finally come home.

What a ridiculous thought…

But, more importantly, finally…she was his.

Maggie took the cup of tea she’d just made and walked over to the huge window in the sitting room. Hardly seeing the view, her thoughts inward, she felt…curiously still…and empty. As if something monumental had shifted within her. She was very much afraid she’d never be the same. And she knew she’d compartmentalised it somehow, put it into some corner where she wouldn’t have to deal with it…just yet. Her whole body ached, muscles protesting if she moved too quickly, and when she’d looked in the mirror earlier she’d been shocked at the bruises on her skin. She blushed then as she remembered raking Caleb’s back with her nails and wondered if she’d left him with marks too.

She took a sip of tea, feeling the hot liquid go down, warming her insides, which felt curiously cold. Maybe this was just her defence mechanism kicking in. All she was willing to acknowledge was that he had made her take leave of her senses and that the two of them had ignited a passion that scared her with its intensity. And it had started a craving ache that she knew wouldn’t be sated until she saw Caleb again.

The phone rang, piercing the air, and she jumped. Little fiery shivers of sensation raced along her nerve-endings as she already anticipated his voice on the other end. Images of last night flooded her head. Thank God he couldn’t see her.

‘Hello?’

‘There’s a courier on the way around for—’

‘Okay, fine.’

‘See you later, then.’

‘Fine.’

She cut him off. Didn’t want him to say it. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Their conversation couldn’t have been more sterile. He was talking about the contract. In the headiness of last night, when he’d swept her so effortlessly into that vortex of need and want and pleasure, she’d forgotten all about it. Only to wake this morning to an empty bed and the contract beside her. She smiled grimly—that just about summed up what was going on. He’d signed his part and left a curt note:

Countersign and I’ll send over a courier. Consider it done.

So it was done. Her mother had her house back…and, in seven weeks and a bit, Maggie would be free to walk away. Curiously, the thought didn’t fill her with the elation she’d thought it would. Was she really so pathetic? She jerked away from the phone and the window and went to rinse out the cup. She found a pen, signed the contract and put it in an envelope Caleb had left behind. Then she waited for the courier downstairs. She almost thrust it at him when he arrived, more distraught than she would have imagined or thought she’d be.