Out of Bounds (13 page)

She pushed herself out of his embrace and lay
on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Anton let her slide away,
knowing she was calmer now, and no longer likely to bolt from the
bed.

“I can’t tell you this while you’re hugging
me,” she said, desperation making her voice shake again. “You’ll be
disgusted.”

“Try me,” he said, attempting to sound
non-committal, and having no idea what to expect.

“You’ll be disgusted,” she muttered again,
turning so her back was to him in the dim room. “I didn’t want to
be left out. Hallie and Bren had boyfriends, had sex and talked
about it, were normal girls...”

“So you gave it a go and didn’t like it?” he
hazarded.

“I didn’t even remember it. I chose a boy at
a party we had, and got quite drunk to get my courage up. All I can
recall was feeling squashed and helpless. And sore. And
stupid.”

“Yeah—not the best solution,” was all he
could say. Poor kid. She’d made it worse for herself, not better.
“You need to have some emotional connection to the person. Girls
do, especially.”

“Like you and Claire?”

He snorted with surprise. “Claire? Never in a
million years. Claire’s nice enough—great looks, I admit, but she’d
drive me mad in a week. She’s after Paul.”

“But...I saw you kissing her...next door—a
few days before you dropped your demolition bombshell.”

A smug little frisson of warmth tickled his
weary spirits. Jetta sounded put out. Almost jealous. Given he’d
spent the week keeping his distance, that was gratifying. “Probably
the other way around. Claire kisses everyone.”

“Mmmm. She kissed me, now I think about
it.”

“Not a kiss,” he said. “A silly affectation.”
He cursed inwardly as his groin responded to thoughts of kissing
Jetta. Things had to stay businesslike between them. Because of the
house. Because of whatever family link there might be. But...

“This is more my idea of a kiss,” he said,
moving over her in the near darkness, sliding a hand up her arm to
turn her toward him, and settling his lips on hers.

He meant it to be—he swore he meant it to
be—a sweet and sinless sign of affection. Nothing more. But her
lips were soft and responsive, and clung to his just a second too
long to be truly innocent.

He groaned as he pulled away and retreated to
the furthest cold reaches of the bed. Hot lust raced through his
veins. The wanting simmering just below the surface boiled over and
scalded him, sending needle sharp torture along every nerve.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he said in a voice husky
with need. “Sorry. Bad night—get some sleep.” He knew his own
chances of sleeping were now next to nil.

Jetta raised her fingers and touched her
too-sensitive lips. She could easily imagine his mouth still on
hers, his tongue teasing her lips apart and the kiss becoming
deeper and more passionate.

She wished it had.

The horrible night, the shocking danger of
the fire, the loss of her possessions, the gut-wrenching emotion of
confessing her deepest darkest problem, had all combined to make
life so precious. Now she wanted to live to the full, experience
everything it had to offer. Surely Anton would be gentle, and try
not to frighten her after what she’d told him?

She turned on her side, desiring more than
the brief touch of his lips on hers. Already she missed his skin.
Wanted his arms around her again. Knew she was willing to grant him
power over her. If he tangled his long legs through hers, and held
her down as he had earlier, perhaps that was the price she had to
pay for the pleasure and freedom that might follow?

She reached out a tentative hand. Where had
he gone?

The bed seemed vast. She raised her head and
saw his silhouette on the far side. With extreme caution, she slid
and wriggled across until his body heat was a tangible thing,
warming her from a tiny distance away. Then she extended her hand
until it hit bare flesh.

He flinched. Maybe she heard him draw in a
fast breath but he made no other sound. Surely he’d registered the
mattress dipping as she crept across to him? And hadn’t tried to
stop her?

Barely believing she had the courage, she
edged closer, and stroked to and fro over the piece of him she’d
landed on. His waist—because her fingers hit the edge of his pajama
pants. He felt a hundred degrees hot, and as smooth as velvet.

“Are you asking for trouble?” he muttered,
his voice a soft growl, almost animal.

The delicious thrill of what ‘trouble’ might
mean arrowed down until it settled between her thighs, pulsing and
fluttering, wanting to be set free.

She edged forward and pressed a kiss on his
spine. This time she definitely heard his indrawn breath, but he
stayed unmoving.

“Maybe?” she whispered.

He gave a very resigned-sounding sigh.

“You pick your moments, don’t you? I’m lying
here so hard I’m in pain, but this is not the time for it, babes.
You’re probably still in shock. You’re pumped full of adrenalin.
You’re stone cold sober but hyped to hell.”

She kissed his warm back again, and then
licked up and down over several of the fascinating bumps of his
spine.

“God...you’re not going to make this easy on
me, are you?” he groaned, rolling over and pinning her underneath
him. “Feel what you’ve done to me? Hmmm?”

He gave a small thrust of his hips, and Jetta
certainly could feel what she’d done to him.

“Sorry,” she said in a small voice, secretly
thrilled.

“There’s nothing I’d like more than to hump
you into next Sunday, filthy and tired as I am. But it’s not what
you need, whatever you might think.”

His silhouette loomed above her. She knew
where his mouth must be, so she stretched up and found it with
hers. His lips parted on a gasp, and then pulled away. For long
moments they remained frozen, then he sighed and dipped his head
again until he found her. Groaning, he pressed her down into the
pillow, biting at her softly.

Jetta parted her lips, seeing the beautiful
shape of his mouth so clearly in her mind. The sharp bow of his top
lip. The warm full cushion below.

The sensation of his flesh brushing over
hers, lifting, returning, was accompanied by his hand sliding up
her neck, his thumb tilting her chin and tipping her head to the
exact angle he wanted it. He held her there as if she might wish to
escape. Not a chance! And he deepened his kiss, cursing at her in
the darkness, sliding his tongue over hers, and drawing in
desperate breaths as he kissed her and kissed her until her whole
body buzzed and hummed with pleasure.

“No more,” he grated, deserting her mouth for
her neck. He pressed a hot open- mouthed kiss below her ear, then
lower and lower until he reached the junction of her neck and
shoulder.

He bit her, not softly. His whole big body
trembled with barely leashed power and the last vestiges of
restraint. “We’re not doing this,” he said. “Not now, for sure.
Maybe tomorrow when things are somewhere near normal, we can talk
about it...”

He laved over the bite with his tongue.

Jetta was so far from wanting to talk about
anything that she groaned with frustration and wriggled against
him.

“Forget it!” he snapped. “Be pleased I can
still stop. You deserve better than this.”

And somehow he rolled, taking her with him and
tucking her into the curve of his body so her back pressed against
his hard chest, and her butt felt exactly how aroused he was. Her
only consolation was one of his big hands cradling her breast,
thumb running over and over her nipple through the fine cotton of
her nightgown. “Sleep,” he instructed. “No more funny
business.”

Somehow, overwhelmed and exhausted, she did
sleep.

And woke on Friday morning disoriented, in
the wrong bed in the wrong room, and surrounded by the acrid stink
of wet ashes.

Anton pushed the door open as she struggled
back to consciousness. He was suited and shaved, and looking so
distant that last night’s ferocious embrace might only have been in
her imagination. He held a mug of coffee in each hand. “Morning,”
he said, setting hers down.

He sat on the bed far enough away to be
downright unfriendly, and she pushed herself up, tucked the sheet
firmly over her breasts, and eyed him with suspicion. This wasn’t
what she’d expected.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “At least they
saved the rest of the house, so things could be worse.”

“Easy for you to say—your room’s not a soggy
mess.”

“True,” he conceded. “And even though I got
that door closed again damn fast, the fire smell is all through the
place.”

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Or I can pretend to be until I know how
things really stand between us.

“I presume you’re taking the day off work?”
He sipped his coffee. “There are things in your room that need
salvaging.”

“Are you going into town?”

Duh! Of course he is. Dressed like that.

“Only for a couple of hours. I’ll be back
well before eleven to give you a hand. I’ve ordered another
dumpster so we can get rid of the worst of the mess.”

She nodded, and the silence stretched out too
far.

“About last night,” they said in unison.

He held out a hand in a ‘you first’
gesture.

This was difficult. There was so much she
wanted to say. So much she wanted to know. And so much she didn’t
dare ask with him looking daunting in his business tycoon disguise,
avoiding her eyes, sitting miles away.

“Thank you for saving my life,” she said.
“You’ll never know how grateful I am. How’s your shoulder?”

He softened enough to give her half a
grin.

“Damn sore. You owe me.”

“Anything you want.”

“Yeeeahhh,” he said, stretching the word out
so it hung on and on between them. “That’s the other thing we need
to talk about.”

No! She saw her best ever chance of gaining
her sexual confidence slipping like sand through her fingers. How
could she impress upon him how shockingly important it was to
her?

“Please?” she asked, eyes prickling with
unshed tears. “Please, Anton.” The hot drops brimmed over and slid
down her cheeks, and she dashed them away with her fingers, furious
with herself for being so undisciplined. “This isn’t meant to be a
damned sympathy request,” she added. “You’d be kind to me, gentle
with me after what I told you. In some ways that would be even more
valuable than being rescued from the fire.”

He sat, silent for too long, not looking at
her. Finally, he raised his eyes to hers; blue eyes that were both
weary and wary now.

“I’m no doctor,” he said, “but you’ve still
got to be in shock and a long way from your normal self. We’ll see
how you feel tonight.”

Jetta nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
She picked up her coffee and gazed down into it before she raised
it to her lips.

“Thanks for this.”

“You’re welcome.”

We’re as stiff and starchy as a pair of
strangers. How did I ever think this would work?

“I’ve just checked that latch you put on your
bedroom door,” he said in a tight voice. “I’m kicking myself!
You’ve got the two sides out of line. No wonder you couldn’t get it
open. Why the hell didn’t you let me do it for you?”

She glanced up at him again, and saw how real
his anger was. His beautiful lips pressed together, almost white.
His eyes narrowed with fury. A patch of color blazed high on each
cheekbone. Then his emotions got the better of him. “You could have
died
!” he yelled.

She jumped, slopping her coffee over the
sheet to join the streaks of ash and smears of blood. “I didn’t
want to ask.”

“You wouldn’t ask me for a bit of basic
carpentry but you’d ask me for sex?”

“I did
not
ask you for sex. I asked
you for some kindness.”

“I’d rather you’d asked me to check your
carpentry,” he grated, running a hand back through his hair,
messing its thick softness into furrows.

She shrugged. “Too late now. The damage is
done.”

“I don’t want to do any more damage—to
you.”

“You won’t damage me. I trust you. Look what
happened last night?”

“How could I forget? You’re lucky I had that
much self-control. You’re a hot little package, Jetta. Don’t go
trying that with anyone else.”

“As if I’d get the opportunity...”

His words sank in an instant later.
A hot
little package
. So he found her attractive, even though he was
furious she’d disregarded her safety. So there might yet be room to
negotiate?

“I won’t go in to work today,” she said,
deliberately changing the subject. “I’ll ring. They’ll understand
after last night. Lots of people are still on holiday anyway—like
your wretched lawyers.”

Anton tilted his mug and gulped the last of
his coffee. He stood.

“How bad is my room?” Jetta asked as he
started to leave.

“Bad enough. Mostly the end wall, of course.
The bed’s done for. The wardrobe doors were shut, so...?”

“So maybe some of my clothes will
survive?”

“They’ll stink of smoke. You’ll have to get
them dry-cleaned. I hope you’re insured?”

She watched as he pulled the door open and
then half closed it. His swift steps progressed along the timber
floor of the hallway, followed by the jingle of car keys and the
hollow thud of the front door closing.

She sat on in silence, sipping her coffee,
thinking the last of her childhood and family memories had probably
disappeared in the flames. How could you insure that?

Her eyes settled on the big white robe
hanging on the back of the door. She stripped off her smudged and
crumpled nightdress and held the robe to her face. Anton’s lemony
cologne teased her nose.

She had the ideal excuse to borrow it, so she
slipped her arms down the sleeves and pulled the belt tight. It
would be wonderful to have Anton wrapped around her like his robe.
Maybe tonight?