Читать книгу It Started With... Collection - Miranda Lee - Страница 18

THE phone was ringing when Rachel arrived home that night around seven. She raced to answer it, thinking—no, hoping—it might be Justin.

‘Yes?’ she said as she snatched it up to her ear.

‘Rach, I was just about to give up and hang up.’

‘Isabel!’ Not Justin. Of course not. Silly Rachel. ‘What…what are you doing, ringing me on your honeymoon?’

‘Oh, don’t be silly, Rach. We can’t have sex all the time.’ And she laughed.

Rachel almost cried.

‘Not that we haven’t given it a good try,’ Isabel burbled on. ‘I think I’ve worn him out. The poor darling’s having a nap so I thought I’d use the opportunity to give you a call and find out how things are going at home. I’ve already rung Mum and Dad, so don’t start lecturing me.’

‘I never lecture you, Isabel. Not any more. The boot’s on the other foot these days.’

‘You could be right there. But you need lecturing sometimes. So tell me, how’s things with your job?’

‘Fine,’ she said with pretend lightness.

‘You still getting along with grumpy-bumps?’

‘Justin is not a grumpy-bumps. He’s just serious.’

And how, Rachel thought with a shiver, trying not to think about the day she’d spent with him.

‘In that case, he’s probably not gay,’ Isabel pronounced. ‘Gay men are never serious.’

‘Justin is definitely not gay,’ Rachel said, her tone perhaps a tad too dry.

‘Really? Is that first-hand experience speaking there?’ her best friend asked suspiciously.

Rachel decided that some sarcastically delivered truths would serve her purpose much better than heated denial. Because no way could she ever tell Isabel what was going on between herself and her boss. Isabel would be scandalised. She was pretty scandalised herself!

‘Yes, of course. Didn’t I mention it? He can’t keep his hands off me. We’ve been doing it everywhere. On the desk. In the little-men’s room. On the boardroom table. Standing up. Sitting down. Frontwards. Backwards. Haven’t tried it upside-down yet. But give it time.’

‘OK, OK,’ Isabel said, sighing exasperatedly. ‘I get the drift.’

No, you don’t, Rachel thought with an erotically charged shiver. I’m telling you the shocking truth. ‘But let’s not talk about me,’ she went on hastily. ‘Can I know where you went on your honeymoon now?’

‘Yes, of course. Hong Kong. And we’re loving it. The clothes shopping is fantastic. I’ve been such a naughty girl. Bought a whole new wardrobe. But you know Rafe. He likes me to dress sexily, and all my clothes at home are a tad on the conservative side.’

Rachel had never thought Isabel’s wardrobe at all conservative. Just classy.

‘You can have them, if you like,’ Isabel offered.

‘What? All of them?’

‘Everything I left behind. Provided you wear them, of course. That’s the deal. You have to wear them. To work as well. It’s time you bit the bullet and threw out those dreary black suits. I’m sure your boss could cope. It’s not as though any of my old outfits are provocative. You can even have the shoes to go with them. We’re the same shoe size.’

‘Yes, I know. But are you sure, Isabel?’ she asked, amazed by her friend’s generosity.

‘Positive. Actually, there’s nothing in that place that you can’t have. Take the lot. Handbags. Jewellery. Make-up. Beauty products. Whatever you can find. I won’t be needing any of it.’

‘You can’t mean that, Isabel. You used to spend a small fortune on all your accessories. As for cosmetics and skin products, both bathrooms here are chock-full of them.’

‘And I don’t need any of it. Look, I brought everything I really like with me, and that includes my best jewellery. The stuff I left behind is just costume jewellery, bought to go with the clothes I’ve just given you. You’re welcome to whatever you can find. If you don’t use them they’ll only go to waste. I have a new look now, from top to toe. Speaking of new looks, I’ve also bought some great maternity clothes for when I begin to sprout. Oh, I can’t wait to get home and show everything to you.’

‘So when exactly will you be home?’

‘Next Saturday week. The flight gets in around midday. I’ll ring you when we arrive home at Rafe’s place and you can come over that evening for dinner.’

‘But you won’t want to cook after travelling.’

‘Who said anything about cooking? We’ll order something in. Is that all right by you?’

‘Perfect.’ There was no worry that she’d be spending any time with Justin on a Saturday. That was one of the many stipulations he’d made during their marathon afternoon of sex and sin. He wasn’t offering her a real relationship. He didn’t think it was fair to her to build her hopes up in that regard. Meeting each other’s sexual needs was what they were doing. But dating was out. So was going to each other’s places. Sex was to be confined to the office, but not till after five in future. Today was an exception.

She’d agreed to stay behind after work for a while every day till they were both satisfied. She’d agreed that he would not take her out to dinner afterwards, or take her home. She’d agreed that they wouldn’t see each other at weekends.

In hindsight, Rachel could see she would have agreed to anything at the time.

But she knew, deep down in her heart, that she was skating on thin ice where Justin was concerned. She had underestimated the extent of his broken heart, and the darkness that had invaded his shattered soul. If Eric had hurt her, Justin could very well destroy her. But she felt helpless against the power of her need to have him make love to her as he had today. Primitively. Erotically. Endlessly.

There was nothing she wouldn’t agree to to continue their sexual relationship.

‘Uh-oh, I’d better go, Rach. The lord and master is stirring. Now, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do till I get home,’ Isabel said happily, and hung up.

‘No worries there,’ Rachel muttered ruefully as she replaced the phone in its cradle. ‘Whatever you’re doing with Rafe, I’m doing one hell of a lot more with Justin. Much, much more.’

An image flashed into her mind of her straddled over Justin’s lap, her back glued to his chest, her arms wound up around his neck. They were seated on his office chair, their naked bodies fused and beaded with sweat, despite the air-conditioning. He was making a pretext of showing her how his programs worked whilst he idly played with her breasts. If he’d expected her to learn anything, he was sadly mistaken. All she’d learned was that she was rapidly becoming addicted to his brand of sex, and rapidly becoming obsessed with him.

If Isabel thought Rafe’s body was great, then she hadn’t seen Justin’s. She quivered just thinking about how he felt, all over. She couldn’t get enough of touching him. And whatever else he wanted her to do.

And he’d wanted her to do everything today. There wasn’t an inch of his beautiful male flesh that hadn’t enjoyed the avid attentions of her mouth, or her hands. She’d been shameless. Utterly shameless.

Yet shame wasn’t her overriding emotion when she thought of the woman she became in his arms. The memory evoked the most intoxicating excitement. Her heart thundered and a wave of heat flushed her skin.

There was no way she could voluntarily give up having sex with Justin. No way she could quit now and get another job. She was his, till he decided otherwise. His to admire and desire. His to have and, yes, to hold.

But never to marry, she reminded herself.

Her heart twisted at this last thought. But that didn’t stop her racing down to Isabel’s walk-in wardrobe and seeing what was there for her to wear for Justin tomorrow. Something classy but sexy, she wanted, her eyes scanning the long rows filled with outfits, most of them suits in pastel shades. She pulled out a pale blue silk trouser suit, then put it back. Trousers did not appeal. She needed something with a skirt, either long and floaty, or short and tight. Something that would draw Justin’s eye and recharge his hormones. She wanted him well and truly fired up by five. She wanted him as desperate for her as she already was for him.

A cream linen suit caught her eye, matched with a mustard-gold camisole. The jacket still had long sleeves but that didn’t matter yet. Sydney’s weather was still overcast and cool.

She laid it across the bed then rummaged around till she found matching cream shoes and bag. The jewellery box on the dressing table revealed a pearl choker with matching earrings. Not real pearls, of course, but still classy-looking. This time she would put her hair up in a more severe fashion, showing her throat and ears. To compensate, she would wear more make-up, paying particular attention to her eyes and mouth. Rachel knew she had nice eyes. And Justin seemed fascinated with her mouth.

Oh, and she would wear perfume. One of the expensive French fragrances Isabel had always favoured. Rachel had already noticed several not quite empty bottles in the wall cupboard above the main vanity unit. She would experiment with a new one each day and find out which one Justin seemed to like the most, then go and buy herself a bottle.

Stripping down to her underwear, she tried on the cream linen suit, pleased to see that it fitted very well, a surprise, considering she was considerably slimmer around the hips and waist than Isabel. Perhaps Isabel had bought it last year when she’d been dieting. The cami was much too tight around the bust, however, so Rachel took it off, discarded her bra and tried it on again.

With her full breasts settled lower on her chest the top felt less tight, but, as Rachel walked over to check her reflection in the cheval mirror on the back of the wardrobe door, the satin rubbing over her naked nipples had them puckering into pebble-like peaks. She winced at the sight of their provocative outline, which screamed her lack of underwear, plus her constant arousal. Would she dare wear it like this? And would she dare take off her jacket?

Oh, yes, she accepted as another wave of heat flooded her body.

She dared.

She would dare anything after today!