Sommersgate House (43 page)

Though it was
not Dream Douglas saying her name, it was Real Douglas.

Her eyes flew
open but it was too late, her body had betrayed her, she couldn’t
stop moving, pressing against him, using her hand to encourage him.
The ache was building to fever pitch, he was pressing, stroking,
soon, she knew, it would be over, she could feel it coming and she
wanted it more than breath.

But
knowing he was there, she wanted
him
, not his hand and even as her body begged him to bring her
to climax by pressing against his, she tried to turn toward
him.

His arms
tensed immediately, holding her in place against him but still away
from him.

“No, Julia.
This is for you.”

“
I
want…” she whispered but it was too late, the sensations overcame
her words and with a small cry, her back arched, her pelvis ground
into his hand and the pleasure tore through her violently and when
the first wave ended, his hand continued its work and to her
shocked outcry of, “Oh!” (which didn’t half do it justice), the
second wave began. Somewhere in her dazzling double climax, her
dazed mind noted she felt Douglas smile against her
neck.

When the
luscious tension ebbed out of her body, his hands slid away, his
lips drifted across her shoulder and he disappeared.

As in, he left
the room.

She lay there,
her body spent, her mind still full of hazy cobwebs of desire.

And she lay
there, satisfied, but alone.

She wanted to
forget it, to ignore it, go to sleep and worry about it tomorrow.
She wanted to think of it as another crazy day in a life full of
crazy days since moving to England.

But she
couldn’t.

And because
she couldn’t, instead of bursting into tears of frustration (and
longing) Julia began fuming.

Then her
ruminating anger turned to fury.

She whipped
the covers off the bed and the minute she did, Archie started
scratching at the window and The Mistress slid arcticly through her
ankles.

“Oh, bugger
off!” she seethed and distractedly she noticed the scratching
stopped immediately and the draught melted away.

In the
darkness, she paced the room once then twice then went to the door,
wrenching it open only to whirl around and pace the room again. She
tried to calm herself, tried to figure out why she was so furious,
because it wasn’t all that surprising, she wouldn’t put anything
passed Douglas.

Then she
knew.

“
I mean,
how
dare
he?” she
muttered to no one.

He was
playing with her, toying with her, he
knew
exactly what he could do to her and he was
using
her
own body
against
her.

He didn’t
fight fair.

Well,
she
thought,
two
could play at that game.

With long,
angry strides, she exited her room and went to his, half-blinded by
fury, feeling as if her head would explode.

Not wanting to
wake the children, she carefully opened the door to his sitting
room and just as carefully closed it with a noiseless click.

The sitting
room was dark but the door was open to his bedroom and a soft light
came from there. She crossed the sitting room quickly and surged
into his bedroom.

She’d caught
him fresh from the shower, walking across the room rubbing his wet
hair with a towel while another towel was wrapped around his waist.
She noted that there were still droplets of moisture on his broad
shoulders.

He halted the
moment he saw her.

“Julia,” he
said warily catching the look in her eye. His hands holding the
towel dropped.

“Tomorrow, I’m
leaving. I’m moving home to America and I’m taking the children
with me,” she announced and she watched, with not a small amount of
fear, as his face grew hard.

“The hell you
are,” he replied, wariness obliterated and instant rage in its
place.

“Watch me,”
she retorted and turned on her heel, whirling around but before she
got to the door, he was there, quick and quiet as a cat, and he
slammed it shut right in front of her. She felt the whoosh of air
as it whipped closed.

She jolted to
a stop and then turned to him.

“I’m leaving,”
she repeated.

“You leave,
you leave the children behind.” His eyes were glowing dangerously
but she ignored it.

“You promised
you wouldn’t bring the children into it.” She threw in his
face.

“I lied,” he
stated calmly.

She pursed her
lips, her fury a tempest behind her eyes.

Then, she
hissed, “I hate you.”

“No you
don’t.”

“Oh yes,
Douglas, I do,” she assured him.

At that, he
advanced on her and she could no longer ignore the look in his
eyes, their dark blue turning midnight. His lips had tightened and
the scar came out in bold relief, making him even more
menacing.

She
retreated.

“You can’t
make me stay,” she said, her anger melting into bravado.

He quirked an
eyebrow, tossing the towel he was holding to the side. “No?”

He took it as
a challenge that she should have been smart enough not to throw at
him but she wasn’t feeling in the mood to be smart.

“And I’ll take
the children with me, you’ll have to fight me for custody,” she
threatened as he kept at her and she continued to retreat, walking
backwards. He was quickly closing in on her, barely a step
away.

“I’ll do it,”
he warned. “I’m far richer than you and they’re British citizens, I
doubt international law would smile upon kidnapping.”

“It wouldn’t
be kidnapping, I have custody!”

“It would if
Baron Blackbourne says it was.”

“You wouldn’t
do that!” she burst out.

“Try me,” he
snarled and she reared back, coming to the end of her retreat when
her knees hit something soft and solid and she toppled backwards
onto the bed.

“Well done,
darling,” he drawled.

She
started to scramble away, thinking what a fool she was for
retreating
toward
the bed
but he swiftly caught her ankle and yanked her effortlessly back
across the comforter. She yelped and twirled and then watched as,
with a rough jerk, he pulled the towel away at his hips.

“Don’t touch
me!” she snapped.

He loomed over
her. “When I’m done, I’ll have you begging me, you’ll press your
wet, tight –”

“No!” She
shoved at him.

It was too
late. He was there, he was driven, he was furious and he was going
to have exactly what he wanted and there was nothing Julia could do
about it.

To her extreme
humiliation, she melted within moments of his mouth landing on
hers, his hands on her body and his hardness against her. He seemed
to be everywhere and her body wanted him, her heart wanted him, it
was only her mind that wouldn’t allow her to have him.

And she kissed
him back, nipped his shoulder with her teeth and licked away the
moisture there. She gasped in his ear and ran her nails up his
spine. He left her long enough to tear her underwear down her legs
and then he was back, she opened her legs to welcome him and he was
gliding inside her. He was fully ready for her and she was long
since ready for him.

She arched her
back and neck and knew he had won.

But,
throughout it all, silently, she was crying.

His mouth took
hers again in a brutal kiss while his hips pounded into her and she
gloried in it at the same time her grief was engulfed by his
passion. He tore his lips away and her breath gave a stuttered
hitch from the soundless weeping but he didn’t notice. He slid his
cheek down hers, slammed his groin into her and her neck arched
with delight and despair at the pleasure of just how deep he
was.

She wanted to
hold him there forever.

It was then
his head came up and his body stilled.

She
tensed.

“Julia?” His
voice was hoarse and as he looked down on her she turned her head
to the side in a futile attempt to hide the tears on her face.

His hand came
up to her cheek and gently moved her face to look at him. His thumb
found the tears that were sliding down the sides of her eyes into
her hair. He stroked her there, trailing a wet line of tears down
her cheekbone to her lips so she tasted their saltiness.

“Julia,” he
muttered, his voice thick.

“It’s okay,”
she told him, her voice shaky, her hips moving because he was still
buried inside her. His body tightened, his muscles stiffening under
her hands. “Really, Douglas, it’s okay. You win, for tonight, you
win,” she whispered.

His forehead
dropped to rest on hers, the length of his nose pressing against
hers and he closed his eyes as if he was in pain.

“It doesn’t
have to be like this.” He was moving again, gently, sliding in and
out with sweet, agonising slowness.

“I bring out
the worst in people,” Julia admitted haltingly, “especially
men.”

He groaned,
low and deep and it sounded like there was pain mixed with his
pleasure. He kissed her, not with brutal passion but this time
tenderly, a kiss like none she’d had from him before, a kiss that
made something bud inside of her, awaken and start to grow.

Then his lips
broke away, they trailed down her cheek, her jaw and he buried his
face in her neck, the whole time, making gentle love to her.

“What am I
going to do with you?” His voice sounded disgruntled in her
ear.

“Whatever you
want.”

This brought
another croaky moan from him, his arms wrapping around her, his
hands lifting her hips to receive him.

Her neck
arched again as her body melted further into his, wrapping itself
tightly around him,
everywhere.

“Why do you
want to go?” His voice was still at her ear and she shuddered,
loving the depth of it, his accent, he had such a beautiful
voice.

“You came down
and… did what you did in my room and then you left me alone.” Her
arms tightened around him and she whispered, “Douglas, I’m so tired
of being alone.” She pressed her hips against him and he ground his
against her.

“You don’t
have to be alone.”

“I’m always
alone.” Her voice was an ache.

His hips were
moving faster, pressing harder, she melted further into him,
tightened around him.

“Julia,” his
breath was shallow, “I’ll not let you go.” He drove into her, not
gentle now, his heat was overwhelming her and her head reared up,
her face burying itself in his neck.

“You have to,”
she whispered into his ear, knowing he was struggling, knowing that
she was close but he wanted her to finish before him. “Let go,
sweetheart,” she urged but he held back, moving faster, driving
deeper and she went closer. “Douglas,” she breathed and he gave it
to her, her lips opened against his skin where she moaned as the
pleasure rippled through her.

Julia came
down, dropping her head to the bed and Douglas lifted his, his eyes
locked with hers and she held her breath at the look in their dark
depths before he rammed into her hard, twice, and then his head
jerked back and she saw the chords and veins standing out in his
neck as he climaxed inside her.

For some
reason, she thought watching Douglas lose control while he was
buried inside her was the most beautiful sight she ever beheld and
she allowed herself to glory in the fact that she could give that
to him, the fierce, powerful, handsome Douglas Ashton.

She lifted her
head to run her tongue along his neck as she slid her fingers in
his thick hair.

He collapsed
on top of her, his weight pressing her into the bed and she
welcomed it, holding him tight to her with all four limbs. His
breath was coming fast then but after it slowed, he shifted himself
so that he wasn’t fully resting on her but he didn’t move away.

His lips
brushed hers, feather light.

“I didn’t mean
to hurt you; I meant to give you something.” He was talking about
before, in her room and she knew it was the closest she’d get to an
apology. She nodded and his hands came back to her face, rubbing
the place where the tears had been.

“If you ever
leave,” his voice had changed from soft to harsh, “I’ll find you
and bring you back.”

She felt her
stomach lurch and she didn’t know if it was with fear or
happiness.

She made no
reply, there didn’t need to be one with that kind of promise. She
simply stared at him.

He moved
suddenly, reaching out to his side and jerking down the covers. He
rolled them both towards the pillows, finally disengaging from her.
Then he carefully righted their position on the bed, settled her at
his side and yanked the covers back over them.

“I can’t sleep
here, Douglas, the children –”

“If you
leave,” he repeated, “I’ll find you and bring you back.”

She didn’t
know what else to say because she knew he’d be true to his
promise.

It was a
Douglas she’d never known before. She’d been used to his calm but
now she’d heard him roar, she heard him tease and she’d heard such
harshness in his tone that it felt like it was both shredding her
heart and mending it at the same time.

After what
happened that night, she didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But
she fell asleep with her body held closely against his side, her
head on his chest, all the while thinking of his forehead pressed
to hers and that unbelievably tender kiss.

Christmas

Julia found
out quickly that Douglas’s next line of attack would be what could
only be described as a “tender onslaught” mixed with “not-so-tender
onslaught” both of which were very effective even if she’d be
damned if she’d let him know it.