When he relinquished her fingers they dug helplessly into his back, afraid to let go of the only stable force in her universe. Her other hand fluttered nervously against the thick bulge of his upper arm until he caught that, too, and drew it into the thick, downy nest of his upper chest, stroking it against himself. Her palm felt the scrape of a stiffened nipple surrounded by the luxurious softness of his body hair and lingered there, exploring the contrast in textures. She leaned further into his kiss, instinctively teasing the tips of her breasts against his silky-hot skin, the astonishing pleasure of it all going straight to her head and making her mouth as aggressive as his.
A deep groan vibrated in his chest, making her tingle all over. His teeth softly savaged her swollen lips. The hips that had been crowding lightly against the juncture of her thighs suddenly ground harder, deeper and
Elizabeth became devastatingly aware of the extent of his arousal. Her sense of security vanished like smoke in a mist. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as much in control as she had assumed. Her wanton response was probably way out of proportion to what he had expected from a simple kiss. She had reacted as if she were nineteen again, and unable to control her embarrassing sexual impulses.
She must have made a small, distressed sound because he lifted his mouth reluctantly from hers and muttered something in French that made her blush, his hands sliding down over the jut of her buttocks, cupping them tightly, lifting her on to her toes and adjusting her to the hardness between his thighs, holding her there for a long, agonising moment.
'I didn’t mean this to happen...'
His gravelly words merely confirmed her humiliation. Like Ryan, Jack probably expected a sophis
ticated rather than clumsily eager response to his lovemaking.
Come to think of it, Ryan had been very similar to Jack—handsome, intelligent, experienced. He, too, had found the voluptuousness of Elizabeth's passion initially arousing but ultimately painfully embarrassing ... painful to Elizabeth, at least. He had been her first lover and, as a visiting professor of art history, had seemed the epitome of the Renaissance Man to Elizabeth. Only, as it turned out, it wasn’t romance but sex that had been the driving force of their relationship.
When she had begun to embarrass him with the frankness of her behaviour Ryan had explained crisply that she was confusing intense physical infatuation with genuine love, that they weren’t suited to a long-term relationship because Elizabeth was obviously one of those people who was ruled by her passions whereas Ryan preferred to be in control at all times. She was too... excessive... in her physical and emotional demands on him. She had made him feel stifled. He had even described her as sexually intimidating!
Already secretly a little worried by the instinctive ease with which she had accepted sex as a vital part of her everyday life, Elizabeth had been devastated by what she interpreted as a hint that she was a budding nymphomaniac. It was true that her appetite for lovemaking with Ryan had seemed to be insatiable, but she had thought that the enthusiasm was mutual. She had been so greedily self-absorbed in achieving her own selfish satisfaction that she had failed to notice that she was increasingly the one taking the initiative in their physical relationship.
From this fresh perspective Elizabeth had suddenly seen how appallingly lop-sided her life had become since she had discovered the sexual side of her nature. Her friends had been ignored, her studies taking second place to constant daydreams and fantasies about sex with Ryan. She imagined herself wildly in love with him but she didn’t dream about marriage and babies—no, she dreamt about their thrilling encounters in bed!
Thank goodness Ryan had opened her eyes to the dangers inherent in her character while she had still been young enough to consciously change. Without his warning she might have drifted from bed to bed for the rest of her life, wondering why she could never find the satisfaction she restlessly sought, wondering why her lovers always left. As it was she had circumvented the problem by ignoring it. Men as friends were far more enduring when you didn’t clutter the relationship with diverse sexual tensions.
'Don’t look so horrified; your virtue is still intact.'
The dry words jolted her back to the present. No thanks to her! Another few minutes and she might have thrown him to the ground and had her way with him.
Another horrifying thought struck her. Not only was she guilty of losing her head, she had been tempting a man to adultery. This man was married, for goodness' sake; that alone should have made her recoil from his embrace. That she hadn’t even considered the taboo was a measure of how perceptive Ryan had been six years ago.
Stiffly Elizabeth disentangled herself from the supporting arms that moments ago she had badly needed.
'Should I apologise?' he had the misfortune to ask softly as she averted her face.
'Not to me. It's just the kind of disgusting behaviour I would have expected from you.' She turned to glare at him accusingly.
'There's nothing disgusting about two people kissing,' he pointed out in mild surprise.
'In certain circumstances there is.'
'Oh? And what would they be?' He looked amused. His mouth was faintly reddened by their sensual encounter and Elizabeth went hot just looking at it.
'If one of the people is supposed to be saving their kisses for someone else!'
He shoved a lazy hand through his hair, slicking it back from his forehead to let it fall neatly behind his ears. As straight as it was dark, it framed his long throat and just brushed the thick, tanned shoulders.
‘If you mean Bunny, she was a means, not an end. She's a hotel employee. She's paid in francs, not kisses-'
‘I meant when you're married!'
He went very still. 'You're married?' His eyes flicked down, puzzled, wary. 'You're not wearing a wedding-ring.'
'Not me, you!’ she cried.
'Whatever makes you think I'm married?' he had the gall to ask innocently.
'Your wife and children, perhaps?' said Elizabeth with sweetly vicious sarcasm.
'What wife?'