'Yes, open for me, Jemma.' Luke rasped, and once more he captured her swollen lips in a savage kiss as he moved to settle between her legs. The hard, rigid length of his arousal pressed against her inner thighs, but no further. She moaned deep in her throat, desperate for his ultimate possession. But he raised his head and she stared at him with wild eyes. Not yet.' His mouth curved in a purely male predatory smile. 'I want you to remember this for the rest of your life,' he growled.
Once more his head descended, his mouth capturing the engorged peak of one breast. His teeth bit lightly, and she jerked involuntarily, caught up in a game where only Luke knew the rules. She nipped at his shoulder, her hand sliding across his thigh, her fingers finding his hard shaft. But he tore her hand free and pinned it to the mattress with his own while he explored every inch of her with an erotic intimacy she had never thought possible, bringing her to the brink of pleasure over and over again. Then his mouth found hers, his tongue thrusting with an insinuating rhythm while his long fingers slid between her legs, sending shock waves crashing through her.
Jemma could stand it no longer. Pressing fierce kisses to his massive chest, she pleaded, 'Please, Luke.' Her teeth found a small male nipple and bit it in a frenzy of need.
Her plea ringing in his ears, Luke lifted her hips and drove into her incredibly tight silken sheath with a powerful thrust that brought a shuddering groan of sheer ecstasy from his throat. For the first time in twenty years he was making love without the use of protection, and he paused, fighting to control the intensity of sensation that exploded through every atom of his body.
'Luke!' Jemma cried out his name as she felt the pulsing strength of him stretch and fill her, and then slowly he withdrew. 'No, no—don't stop,' she moaned frantically.
'I couldn't if I tried,' Luke grated desperately, and began to drive into her again and again, taking her in a fierce primitive rhythm that Jemma met and matched, until seconds later her body convulsed in a shattering climax.
Jemma felt Luke's shuddering release as he collapsed on top of her, her inner muscles clenching spasmodically around him as his seed spilled inside her. She clun
g to him, her hands instinctively caressing his broad shoulders, stroking over the satin-smooth shoulderblades, her fingers tracing the indentation of his spine, awed by the power and the wonder of their coupling. The weight of his magnificent body pinned her to the bed, and the tortured sound of their breathing was the only sound in the stillness of the room.
Later, although how much later—one minute or ten—Jemma was incapable of knowing, Luke eased his now familiar weight off her, and leant on one forearm, looking intently into her beautiful, love-dazed face. 'That was amazing, Jemma,' he declared with a broad grin. 'And, in case you have any doubt, that was the first time since I was a teenager that I neglected to use protection. I can assure you I have a totally clean bill of health, so you have nothing to worry about.'
It was the smug masculine satisfaction in his tone that infuriated Jemma, and brought home as nothing else could how far apart they were in the sexual stakes. With the one exception of Luke, a year ago, she had only slept with Alan. But Luke was the direct opposite; he had had so many lovers that health checks were probably a necessity of life for him.
'Thank you for that,' she said, barely containing her sarcasm. 'But now, if you don't mind—' she edged away from him '—I have to get home. Friday is a busy day at work.' She slipped her feet over the side of the bed and stood up, terribly conscious of her nudity but determined not to show it. 'I have to be at the market by five a.m., and I would like to get a couple of hours' sleep first.' She moved to the foot of the bed and picked up her crumpled dress. She slid it over her head, sans underwear, before she dared to glance back at Luke.
He was sprawled across the bed, his head propped up on one hand, his black hair sexily dishevelled. 'Pity. Are you sure I can't tempt you back to bed?' he asked lazily. 'I don't have to leave for New York until nine.'
The devil of it was he could tempt her. In fact, he could probably tempt a saint, Jemma wryly conceded. 'No, remember our deal, Luke. I keep my career.'
'Okay.' He leapt up off the bed, gloriously naked and unfazed. 'But remember the rest of it, Jemma: you move in here before I return from New York.' And, grasping her chin, he planted a swift, hard kiss on her mouth. 'Give me five minutes and I'll take you back.'
Jemma noticed he didn't say 'back home', and for a fleeting instant she wondered if Luke could be jealous of her late husband and the life they had shared. No, that was impossible; that would imply Luke cared about her, and she knew for a fact that he didn't. She saw him disappear into the bathroom and hastily scrabbled around to find her panties and her purse. When he returned, dressed in denim jeans and a sweater, she was fully clothed and trying to twist her tumbled mass of hair into some kind of order.
'Leave it—you're only going to bed,' Luke commanded.
He left her at her front door with a brief hard kiss. Twenty minutes later she crawled into bed, physically exhausted, but with her mind in turmoil. She didn't understand herself any more. Why had she let the thought of a baby propel her into an impulsive decision to marry Luke? Why had she let a man she didn't like and certainly didn't trust make love to her? She closed her eyes in bewilderment and shame. She didn't recognise herself. Because she hadn't simply let Luke make love to her, she had been a willing, even eager participant—as her aching body reminded her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
'Damn!' Jemma cursed as she put down the phone, turning stormy eyes on Liz. 'That was Luke again. Would you believe it? Apparently I'm to take tomorrow off work because he has arranged for me to go clothes-shopping with Jan at his expense! The nerve of the man! Does he think I'm incapable of dressing myself?' She glared at the telephone in exasperation, und Liz burst out laughing.
'No, of course not. As a man, he probably thought it was a good way of mending the rift he may have caused between you and Jan because he dated her to get close to you and win you back. Luke's obviously crazy about you, and I think it's so romantic the way he phones you several times a day. If you had any sense you would take the rest of the week off as well, and pamper yourself ready for his return.'
Romantic, my foot, Jemma thought mutinously, but said nothing. Last Friday she had told Liz she was engaged and given her Luke's version of events. Surprisingly, Liz had swallowed the story whole, and was delighted for her. Now it was Tuesday, and Luke was due back from New York on Thursday. They were flying out to Greece with her family on Friday, for the wedding the following day. The only reason he kept calling her was to inform her of every minute detail of the wedding arrangements. As if she cared! The telephone rang again, and Jemma jumped.
'You answer it, Liz, and if that's Luke again tell him I'm out,' she snapped. 'Tell him I've gone to move my stuff into his apartment.'
'And are you?' Liz asked, reaching for the phone.
'Yes, I am,' Jemma said. 'In fact, I'll take the rest of the week off, as you suggested—if you're sure you can manage?'
'Of course I can.'
'Great—I'll see you at the wedding on Saturday.' She slung her bag over her shoulder and dashed out of the shop before Liz could change her mind. If she heard one more comment from Liz, her father, Jan or anyone on how lucky she was to have landed a gorgeous multimillionaire, she would scream. Plus, she had an important visit to make that she could put off no longer.
After a quick stop at home to wash and change she drove down to Eastbourne. She wasn't looking forward to telling her in-laws she was marrying again, but surprisingly Sid and Mavis took the news remarkably well and were happy for her, telling her she was too young to stay single for the rest of her life and that Alan would have said the same.
Late the next afternoon, feeling hot and harassed, Jemma shoved the shoestring strap of the simple blue slip dress she was wearing back on her shoulder for about the tenth time, unlocked the door of her house and walked in. Shopping and lunch with Jan had been exhausting, and she dropped the bags she was carrying on the hall table, flexing her aching hands and looking at the emerald and diamond ring on her finger.
Nervously she twisted it round and round as she walked into the living room. Time was running out; Luke would be back tomorrow, and she hadn't even started to pack or organise her house sale. But did she really need to? A tiny rebellious imp in the back of her mind posed the question.
She wandered around, touching the familiar items. She picked up her wedding photo, a reminiscent smile curving her mouth, then put it back, her mind made up.