Sally nodded her head, incapable of speech, and grasped his arm, urging him to join her on the bed. He stretched out beside her, one hand resting on her quivering stomach, the other smoothing a few silken strands of hair back from her face.
His hand curved around her waist and urged her closer to his side. The heat and the musky male scent of him tantalised her nostrils, and she felt the hard length of his arousal pressing against her thigh. Amazingly she wasn’t afraid, but excited beyond reason. All she could think was that this magnificent man wanted her, and her head whirled as sensation after sensation arrowed through her body.
‘Tell me what else you like, Sally,’ he rasped huskily.
His hands were everywhere, and she looked at him, her whole body a quivering mass of feelings. ‘You,’ she said mindlessly, her brain turned to mush by sex.
His surveyed her with those smouldering eyes, one hand stroking over the flat plain of her stomach to settle at the juncture of her thighs and ease her legs apart, before his head dropped and his mouth covered a rigid nipple, suckling and tantalising yet again, until she didn’t think she could bear it. Then Zac lifted his head, and his hard mouth covered her swollen lips.
Her slender arms dropped to curve around his broad back, her hands sliding down to stroke his hard buttocks before tracing up the line of his spine to curve around his broad shoulders, and finally reaching up to tangle in the thick black hair of his head.
She closed her eyes, shuddering in ecstasy at the feel of his hair-roughened chest against her acutely sensitised breasts. His tongue flicked evocatively around the outline of her lips and then thrust into her mouth as he kissed her with a hard, possessive passion, and her own tongue swirled round his in wild response.
His long fingers threaded thought the red curls at the apex of her thighs to find the velvet lips that guarded the hot, moist centre of her femininity, stroking over the tiny pleasure-point concealed there with unerring accuracy. She moaned and writhed beneath him, aching for more, her nails sinking into his flesh.
His mouth covered the pulse-point that beat frantically in her neck, and she turned her head to allow him easier access.
‘You want this…’ he growled against her throat.
She opened her eyes, and was just turning her head back to agree, white-hot and wanting, when she caught a glimpse of their naked bodies, erotically entwined, in the mirrored doors of the wardrobe…
To Sally it was like a douche of ice water on her overheated body, and she froze.
‘No. Oh, no!’ she cried, and shoved hard at Zac’s shoulders, catching him by surprise.
He reared back.
‘No?’ he grated, and she caught the look of shock on his darkly flushed face—or was it pain?
She didn’t wait to decide, and scrambled off the bed, picking up her robe. With legs that trembled she stumbled down to the living area, pulling it on. She fastened the belt around her waist so tight it hurt, her heart pounding like a sledgehammer in her chest.
The image in the mirror of naked lovers was indelibly printed on her mind. No, not lovers. A couple indulging in sex, she amended. She had barely recognised herself, wantonly splayed beneath Zac’s great body. But she had been instantly reminded of where she was: her dad’s old love-nest.
She was not like her dad and never would be, she vowed.
The first day she had moved in she had removed the mirror that had hung above the bed, but the mirrored wardrobe doors had been a timely reminder. How many young women had her dad seduced in the exact same place? But she wasn’t about to make the same mistake with Zac Delucca…
Oh, no! In her panic she had forgotten about him for a moment, but not any more. Her body ached with the unfamiliar feeling of sexual frustration. What on earth was she going to say to him?
Painfully aroused and burning up with rage, Zac lay on his stomach and counted to a hundred—a technique he had learned in the ring. A fighter who let his anger get the better of him and lost control rarely won. That was the first piece of advice Marco, his manager at the time, had ever given him. And he knew if he lost control with his redheaded temptress he was liable to shake her until she rattled.
She had said no. Sally had actually said no. He was aware it was a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, and he appreciated that, but he had never had a woman say no to him in bed before.
The little witch had been with him all the way. He could still feel the sting of her nails on his back. She had led him right to the edge and then slammed on the brakes. Pride and other darker emotions had him clenching his fists. No one got away with playing games with him. He rolled off the bed and pulled on his clothes, then descended the few steps to the living area, where the object of his fury and frustration stood, head bowed.
The footsteps on the wooden floor alerted Sally, and slowly she turned round. He was dressed—well, almost; his shirt was open to where he had tucked it in his jeans, the buttons gone. A guilty tide of red swept over her face as the memory of pulling his shirt apart flashed in her mind.
‘Have you any reasonable explanation?’ he asked scathingly, and, not waiting for a reply, continued, ‘Or is it a habit of yours to encourage a man, tell him you want him, rip off his shirt, strip naked and get into bed with him before running from the room?’ he demanded with biting sarcasm.
She raised her head. Not a muscle flickered in the hard bronzed mask of his face, but his dark eyes blazed with a violent anger. She took a step back, suddenly afraid, very afraid, as it hit her just exactly what she had done…
‘No…’ she murmured. The air was heavy with tension, as was the man watching her she realised, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
‘You have a right to look afraid,’ he snarled, and stepped towards her, his tall body looming over her. He grasped her chin and tilted her head back. ‘Some women like to tease, but you take it too far. Consider yourself lucky it was me you tried your trick on. The next man might not have my control, and then you will get a hell of a lot more than you bargained for.’
A tremor slithered down her spine, and he noticed.
‘You were not immune. You were with me all the way. Even now you tremble.’